It’s like that one time on Full House. Michelle Tanner was working hard toward her cooking badge for the Blonde Kids of Nineties TV Troop or whatever, and put olives in chocolate pudding, calling it “Michelle’s Pudding Surprise…” OF COURSE Uncles Jesse and Joey and Co. pretended to like it, because come on–it’s the Tanners, and being much nicer and more wholesome than you and me is kiiiind of their thing.
Well. My point being: this tart is an experiment just like that, except I’m roughly 18% smarter than 5-year-old Michelle Tanner (sorry, kid–at least you’re cuter). This actually turned out really, really excellent. Think sweet, rich fall flavors, topped with tangy goat cheese and a drizzle of honey, cozied up in a buttery crust.
-Finally, like I said, I need you to make this. It’s that good. David Lebovitz… Thank you.
I’m talking ripe, good-as-they-get summer tomatoes, baked to a soft, concentrated mellow sweetness. I’m also talking goat cheese–big hunks of it, with creamy warm centers and golden brown outsides. Herbs, of course. Incredibly flavorful, buttery crust. And to send the whole thing to out-of-this-world excellence, we have sharp, good mustard and a drizzle of honey over the top.
-The way my foam mattress topper firms up when I’m not using it. Climbing into my own bed after a few days away is heavenly, just… extra heavenly.
-Lavanila grapefruit perfume. I used to think I hated vanilla-scented things… But that’s probably because “vanilla” is often code for “syrupy saccharine-smelling thing that maybe smells like a touch of vanilla too” (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Oh, the things you learn as you age.
-Revlon lip butters: for those of us not yet mature enough for lipstick. It’s like training bras for us lipstick-non-wearers. No one is paying me to say this stuff, and that won’t happen, because obviously I like to compare perfectly nice things to training bras. Oops.
-Garbage. Major, major 90s nostalgia. They’re definitely still around and they’re still just so, so good. Butch Vig is the shaman behind some of my favorite music, and Shirley Manson… No words for Shirley Manson. The woman is from another planet.
I knew it! Science has finally given me an excuse for being bad at sports. All of them. Science says: we are not like all the other animals. All we are good at doing is long-distance running thanks to tendons and hairlessness (I’m gleefully ignoring this), and being smart enough to know how to make ice cream thanks to wicked smart brains.
If I quit trying to occasionally swim faster, this isn’t resignation. I’m just at peace with evolution and nature, is all, because, sharks! Fast! Am I right or am I right?
But, one of my first thoughts, natch, was: I really, really wish NASA would stop obsessing about “Earthlike” planets. Have we no ambition? This place is great and all. I like dirt and the ocean and fish and everything. But things could be better. For example: earthquakes. Wouldn’t the ideal planetary surface have much less in the way of tectonic plates and much more in the way of plush rising bread dough? Think about it. That would be worth a 600-lightyear-long trip, perhaps. Although I suggest that we disinvite this one.
This is a lot of outer space talk for a food blog. I sorry. So let me awkwardly segue: Perhaps my ideal planet would also sprout forth butternut squash premixed with onion, walnuts, thyme and goat cheese?
This is your captain speaking… Captain Obvious… You’ve made a lot of jokes about me and I do not like it. Anyhow. What I have here isn’t even a recipe, because, duh, it’s all in the title. Consider it a suggestion in your “make end-of-summer life more delicious” suggestion box.