Tomato Jam

I HAVE MY CAMERA CORD. And this is the very first thing I want to share with you. I'm sorry it took so long, but hurry up and make this before summer's bounty is up and gone! This is tomato jam.

When I made this several weeks ago, I was feeling unique, pretty adventurous. When I told friends and family about tomato jam, a quizzical look would sweep across their faces. Was I as skeptical as all the rest when I saw this recipe for the first time? Yes. But I knew that Mark Bittman would never lead me too far astray and I was particularly intrigued when he said the taste nodded to sundried tomatoes. Because, seriously, I am very obsessed with sundried tomatoes. But since then it seems to have circulated the blog-o-sphere, making me feel quite unoriginal. Nonetheless, this is a recipe that needs to be shared, replicated, and eaten over and over with copious amounts of baguette slices. Mmm...

I used up just about every possibility for the wealth of tomatoes that spilled from my mom's garden this summer. We made bruscetta, we put them on sandwiches, we tossed them in salads, we made them into pasta sauce, we gave them away to neighbors, friends, practically even to strangers, but these tomatoes weren't going to give up so easily. When I saw this recipe, I thought maybe, just maybe, we could finally conquer the little red fruits that had taken over our backyard.

Like I mentioned, this tomato jam recipe comes from Mark Bittman of the New York Times. The spicing in this jam is lovely and quite unexpected. With fresh ginger and jalapenos, cumin, cinnamon, cloves, I had to double check the recipe as I made trips to the spice cabinet because I just couldn't imagine all of these things going together. Not to mention the entire cup of sugar that's added to this jam (sugar and tomatoes?). It seems strange, right? I promise you, it all comes together beautifully in the end, making for a surprisingly sweet and spicy topping for bread, meat, fish, or just about anything you can imagine. My dad and I both agreed that this would be a permanent addition to our summer repertoire, and that if you canned it, it would make for fantastic gifts. It's akin to a very grown up version of ketchup and it's just as addicting (we planned on topping some steaks with it but barely had enough after we'd scooped it up with bread all evening). Give this a try, you will not be disappointed.

Ina Garten's Chicken with Forty Cloves of Garlic

I'd like to take a moment of your time to tell you about three of my favorite things: cream, cognac, and garlic. Each of these ingredients is certainly impressive by its own right. Each adds a certain complexity of flavor, texture, and richness to food that can't be replicated by anything else. These ingredients are really special; whether they're used every day or for a fancy affair, they're sure to please and impress. But what if we were to combine them into one delicious dish that's so wonderfully good it makes your heart skip a beat at your first taste and your senses melt into pure and lovely food bliss. There is such a dish, my friends, and it's Ina Garten's incredible chicken with forty cloves of garlic.

You start with the best chicken you can find (use dark meat, it works wonders here) and brown each piece in butter until lightly crispy. Then, you take the peeled cloves of 3 whole heads of garlic and gently saute them in the bubbly mixture of chicken fat and butter that remains (that probably either sounds really vile to you or as painfully delicious as it does to me). When the garlic is soft and golden brown, you pour in a touch of cognac and a bit of white wine and the delicious brown bits that stuck to the bottom of the pan swim up into a beautifully fragrant sauce. You put the chicken back into the pot, sprinkle the whole thing with fresh thyme, and let it simmer away for a half hour.

When the chicken is done, you take it out of the pot once more to reveal the decadent sauce below. You add a bit of flour to thicken things up, a bit more cognac, and a good touch of cream, and the sauce has transformed into a rich, garlicky, aromatic concoction just begging to be eaten by the spoonful. When you pour the sauce back over that crisp, tender chicken, you'll have to do everything in your power not attack the plate with your bare hands, alarming family members or dinner guests who are probably waiting patiently to try your masterpiece. And a masterpiece it is. Served with some herbed couscous to absorb all of those sinfully tasty juices, this couldn't be a lovelier, more comforting, and certainly not more delicious meal.