Seconds Cantaloupes – Tomato Confit

The best cantaloupes I ever ate were from Martin’s Farmstand on the side of a road outside Kutztown, Pennsylvania. They never disappointed. Juicy, supple, and floral, they were nothing like the crunchy, virtually tasteless melons from the supermarket or those presented hopefully, but always disappointingly, on the breakfast buffet at a hotel. A cantaloupe should never be crunchy.

We bought these melons every August on our monthly visit to “The Cabin,” a bare-bones, two-room vacation house my parents rented and later purchased with a handful of other families. We went to The Cabin throughout the year; however, during the growing season we took advantage of the abundant produce grown on local farms. My parents bought bushels of apples that lasted for months in the refrigerator back home in Philadelphia and baskets of plums that were turned into a stewed compote for a quick winter dessert. My mother would stock up on eggplant and zucchini to make her annual batch of ratatouille. We made daily trips for the sweetest corn to enjoy with dinner, dripping with butter of course, although in hindsight it was so good that butter was not necessary. I remember Grandmom D, my curmudgeonly grandmother on my father’s side, joined us once and complained at a local farm stand that the corn may have been picked early in the day and therefore wasn’t going to be sweet. It was delicious.

What I remember most were those cantaloupes.

Martin’s Farmstand was on the side of a busy road and was owned by a large Amish family. When you drove up, one of the many children, or perhaps Mr. Martin himself, would scurry out to help you. My father would always inquire about “seconds.” These were the fruits that were bruised on one edge or had a small unattractive ding, disabling sale at full price. Sometimes they were only hours away from rotten, at least on one side, yet once cut, cleaned, and the offending portion discarded, the majority was salvageable.

My father didn’t buy seconds because they were less expensive. After all you had to throw away a portion of what you just bought. He purchased them because they were the ripest, most incredible melons you could ever find. Dripping with sugary juices, their soft orange flesh cooling and refreshing on a hot summer day as soon as we returned from shopping or maybe the next morning, for they rarely lasted longer than that.

By the time I got to high school, I stopped going to The Cabin. What respectable teenager would go for a boring weekend with their parents when they could be left home alone? After I met Marci, we started to visit again.

At this point, Martin’s roadside farmstand had closed, although the family continued to sell produce at Renninger’s, the local weekend antiques and farmer’s market. Every time we visited, I bought cantaloupes to bring home, hoping they would be as good as in my youth. But unlike my father when I was a child, I did not buy seconds; they never would have made the ride back to Long Island. And while I might take a point or two off, they were still delicious, some of the best melons I have ever eaten.

Tomato Confit

Of course, tomato confit has no direct relationship to cantaloupes. Yet I only make it when I have an overabundance of almost too ripe cherry tomatoes or when there is a bag of grape tomatoes on the bruised produce shelf at the supermarket. These seconds, like the melons my father bought, make for an excellent dish. After sorting through and discarding those that are beyond salvage, the rest are cooked into submission with garlic and herbs in a bath of olive oil. It’s a mostly hands-off recipe that results in a warm and tasty treat, perfect for spreading on crostini, with or without salty cheese to accompany it. This tomato confit is a perfect way to rescue seconds, small tomatoes that would otherwise be discarded.

1 hour, serves 4 as an appetizer

1 pint cherry or grape tomatoes, rinsed and dried

1 head garlic, cut in half horizontally

½ cup olive oil, more if needed

a few springs fresh thyme

½ tsp. kosher salt

½ tsp. fresh ground black pepper

Crostini, for serving

salty spreadable cheese, such as Boursin, for serving, optional

1. Preheat oven to 300 ^oF.
2. Place tomatoes and garlic cut side up in an oven-proof vessel such as a small lasagna dish or large ramekin that just fits them in a single layer.
3. Pour in enough olive oil to come about halfway up the sides of the tomatoes. Give a quick stir to coat the tomatoes in oil.
4. Distribute the sprigs of thyme evenly over the top and sprinkle on salt and pepper.
5. Bake for about an hour until the tomatoes become wrinkly and almost collapse, and the garlic is soft.
6. Allow to cool slightly and spread garlic on toasted crostini with a smear of soft cheese (if using). Place confit tomatoes and a drizzle of the flavorful olive oil on top and enjoy.

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