Still Life with Raicilla and Tomatoes, by David Sullins, 2014.
Recipe below: Tomato Soup with Marjoram Blossoms and Mascarpone
I grew up surrounded by my dad’s homegrown tomatoes. He was proud of his summer garden. Some years there were so many that my friends and I, unbelievably, would smash them in each other’s faces, or squash them down our pants. It was heartbreaking for him, but what’s a stoned-out teenager on Long Island to do at 11 p.m. on a sweltering night when the folks are out to dinner? I’m now so sensitive to food waste that thinking about that thoughtless destruction gives me grief, forty years later.
We ate so many tomatoes that I did take them for granted. They showed up in pasta, of course, but also in sandwiches, salads, in my homemade bloody mary mix, and just eaten raw with a little salt. We tried sun-drying them, not so sucessfully. But a soup made of only tomatoes? Never. That was not Southern Italian food as I knew it. Tomato soup, if we really had to have it, came from a can. We’d heat it ourselves for a quick lunch (I never saw my parents eat the stuff). Pappa al pomodoro or crema di pomodoro was not on our wavelength (tomato sauce, sure, but that was for pasta, not to pour into a bowl and luxuriate in unadulterated). I don’t think I tasted real tomato soup until I visited Tuscany, in my late twenties.
Now I consider tomato soup made with peak summer tomatoes culinary splendor, up there with fettuccine with shaved truffles. Seriously. It’s a beautiful thing, and now is the time to make it. Like most Italian cooks, I immediately think of basil when considering the tomato, but while gazing at my herb garden I decided that this time I’d go with thyme as a base flavor to cook into the soup, and then add marjoram at the end, for a burst of raw herb gorgeousness. My marjoram is flowering now, and the lush plant throws off a bold and sweet aroma as I brush my hand against it. It’s a treasure.
(Serves 5)
Extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium summer onion, diced
2 fresh summer garlic cloves, roughly chopped
½ teaspoon freshly ground allspice
1 fresh bay leaf
A splash of dry Marsala
About 5 large thyme sprigs, the leaves lightly chopped
2½ pounds round red summer tomatoes (not plums), peeled, seeded, and roughly chopped, preserving any juice that they give off
Salt
Piment d’Espelette
A pinch of sugar, if needed
A few drops of sherry wine vinegar, if needed
About ½ cup mascarpone, thinned with a little warm water.
A handful of marjoram blossoms and buds (if you don’t have blossoms, just use some chopped leaves)
Get out a soup pot, and place it over medium heat. Add a big drizzle of olive oil and the butter. Add the onion, and let it soften for about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and the allspice, and sauté until you can smell the aroma, about a minute. Add a splash of Marsala, and let it cook out. Add the tomatoes, and sauté about a minute. Now add the thyme leaves, bay leaf, and a little salt. Cook, uncovered, at a lively bubble for 10 minutes. You want to cook this high-temperature and fast, to preserve a fresh taste and bright color. After those 10 minutes the tomatoes will have given off juice but the tomato chunks won’t be completely broken down. That is exactly what you’re looking for. Turn off the heat, and let sit for about 5 minutes to develop flavor.
Now purée the soup in a food processor. It’s fine if it has some seeds and a little texture. That adds taste and character. Pour the soup back into the pot, and give it a taste. You’re looking for a good balance between sweet and acid. If it seems too acid, add a pinch of sugar, if your tomatoes were not quite lively enough, add a few drops of vinegar. You want to correct your produce, but in a subtle way. Now add a big pinch of piment d’Espelette and a little more salt, if needed. Add a drizzle of fresh olive oil.
To serve, reheat if necessary. Ladle the soup into bowls, and garnish with a dollop of mascarpone and the marjoram flowers and buds, or leaves. If you’d like to serve the soup cold, swirl about a tablespoon of the mascarpone in while it’s still hot, then chill it, and garnish it with the marjoram. Both ways are good.
