Whenever I serve this dish, whether on a cold winter night in Nashville or on a breezy summer evening at the beach—it works in all seasons—I'm always transported back to the a table on the porch at my dear friend Monica's house on the East End of Long Island.
Monica is a fabulous cook, an equally fabulous hostess, and an even better friend. For several idyllic years, when our children were very young, our family spent the off-season one village away from Monica and her family, who has roots three generations deep in this beautiful part of the world. Monica's house was the center of our communal life during those years, and we all delighted in her hearty, inventive cooking.
We'd met outside the preschool classroom when my first child and her second were 2. For months, we sat together with the other young mothers, waiting to see if our children would struggle to "separate." An hour a day for a week. Two hours the next week. The conversations were what you might expect of New York City preschool mothers. "We should get the kids together for a playdate. What music classes is Sam taking? Does your nanny work on the weekends?" I joined in, of course, but I couldn't help feeling a sort of deep sadness. I don't think these are going to be my friends.
Then I looked down the line of tiny chairs where we were all sitting, and Monica caught my eye.
"Should we go get a drink?"
Immediately, she, our new friend Jennifer, and I picked up our children's backpacks and raincoats and headed a few blocks away for a Bloody Mary. We've been friends ever since.
In the ten years I spent raising children in New York City, Monica—born in Europe, raised in Manhattan, and fluent in French and in the folkways of Manhattan—was something of a lifeline for me. Raising three young children in a City apartment sometimes felt to me like living in a diving bell. I longed for the backyard freedom of my own childhood in Mississippi: kids hopping on a bike whenever the mood struck and lighting out for the territories. Everything in the City felt prescribed for children and controlled by the adults.
When I told Monica how I was feeling, she didn't give unhelpful advice about getting to the park more often.
"Come out to Water Mill for the weekend," she'd say. "I'll make cocktails and cook dinner, and they can run around in the garden. We'll put them in the basement when we're sick of them."
So we did. And eventually, our family rented a sweet little house in Southampton Village every off-season, just down the road from Monica, her husband, and their three children.
Some of my fondest memories of our sixteen years living in New York are set in Monica's cozy chef's kitchen during those perfect months of September and October, when the summer crowds have gone and the farm stands are still bursting with the season's bounty. Andrew, her husband, would grill thick ribeyes. Monica would make homemade chicken fingers for the kids and whip up roasted potatoes with rosemary and fresh Bibb lettuce with a lemony vinaigrette. I would sit by and play sous-chef.
One of her standbys for Saturday night supper was this sweet, garlicky tomato gratin, in which the last of the season's sweet cherry tomatoes were combined with basil, fresh Parmesan, and crunchy, garlicky homemade croutons—a sort of warm, hearty version of panzanella, but far more delicious. She always credited Jacques Pépin and Julia Child with the recipe, but to me, it will always be Monica's.
And whenever I cook it, my mind travels back to a sun-dappled lawn where six children played chase in the dusk while their mothers sipped cold wine, their fathers manned the grill, and all was right with the world.
Cherry Tomato Gratin
Adapted from Jacques Pépin & Julia Child
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Bake Time: 35–40 minutes
Oven Temperature: 375°F
Ingredients
- 2–3 pints small cherry tomatoes, left whole
- 3–4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced or minced
- 1 cup fresh breadcrumbs (made from day-old French bread)
- 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese (Parmigiano-Reggiano)
- 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, chopped
- 1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/4 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
Instructions
Prep the Oven: Preheat your oven to 375°F. Lightly grease a long ceramic baking dish or oval gratin dish with a little olive oil.
Combine: In a large mixing bowl, toss together the whole cherry tomatoes, sliced garlic, fresh breadcrumbs, chopped basil, and grated Parmesan cheese.
Moisten: Drizzle the extra-virgin olive oil over the mixture, then season with the salt and pepper. Toss everything gently until the breadcrumbs are completely moistened by the oil and the tomatoes are evenly coated.
Assemble: Transfer the mixture to the prepared baking dish, spreading it into an even layer.
Bake: Place the dish on the middle rack of your oven and bake for 35 to 40 minutes. You'll know it's ready when the cherry tomatoes are wrinkled, sweet, and beginning to burst, and the cheesy breadcrumbs on top are deeply golden brown and crisp.
