Roasted cherry tomato sauce

Remember those under-performing tomatoes I was whining about a couple of weeks ago? Well, the Blessed Virgin of Visquine has performed a miracle right in our little old backyard and we have tomatoes -- cherry tomatoes in particular -- coming off the vine by the truckload. The heirloom, Tigerella, is coming along nicely -- her fruit is tiny but toothsome.

But those cherry tomatoes.

Marginal citizen farmers that we are, the Wonderfully Patient Spouse and I cannot harvest these little jewels fast enough. As a result, quite a few split open and develop "butt cracks" as the WPS puts it so well. They're still mighty tasty, just not pristine in appearance and as a result, the WPS will have nothing to do with them. Which leaves us with a fair amount of cherry tomatoes. And which leads me to:

Roasted Cherry Tomato Sauce

Note: I managed to accumulate 5 cups of cherry tomatoes (with an assist from a couple smallish Tigerellas). Adjust the recipe accordingly depending on the quantity of tomatoes you're dealing with.

About 5 c cherry tomatoes (butt cracks and all)

1/2 onion, rough chopped

2 healthy stalks fresh oregano

2 stalks fresh rosemary

4 cloves garlic, smashed

2 T capers

Handful of pitted kalamata (or your favorite) olives

1 T red wine

Oozle of extra virgin olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Large pinch of sugar

@ 1 c crushed San Marzano tomatoes (I just happened to have an open can of San Marzanos in the fridge that coincidentally equaled a cup. Change up the quantity according to the amount of cherry tomatoes, but do use the San Marzanos!)

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.

Spread cherry tomatoes, onion, herbs, garlic, capers and olives in a single layer in a baking dish. Drizzle with olive oil, wine and sprinkle with salt, pepper and sugar. Roast for about 15-20 minutes, then give the boys a stir.

Continue roasting for another 45 minutes or so or till the concoction looks like this:

Now, the best part. Turn on the broiler in your over, slide the roasting pan in and broil the tomato mix till its brown. Stir and repeat.

Toss in a blender with the San Marzano tomatoes and give it whirl till quasi-chunky/smooth or straight-up smooth -- whatever makes your eyes blink when it comes to a tomato sauce.

Taste and adjust flavor with salt, pepper and/or sugar. Use with pasta, meats, as a base for soup, whatever. The world is your oyster, or would that be tomato? You decide.

And so it comes to this

Yes, I know. Attractive, isn't it? Although it does seem to be missing something. Say, a car jacked up cinderblocks?

With the threat of temperatures dipping down into the mid- to high 30s the last few nights, the Wonderfully Patient Spouse and I turned to visquine to protect our sadly under-whelming tomato plants. Well, I take that back. We HAVE harvested about 20 cherry tomatoes, but Tigerella is just green, green, green. The early blossom rot, and abnormally cool summer, have taken their toll.

But enter visquine. Three days bubble-wrapped in plastic has done wonders for our reluctant lady. Tigerella has TWO, count 'em two, pieces of fruit starting to turn. That would be two out of about 100 or so, I should probably add.

Tigerella apparently likes a sauna. And I'm open to any and all green tomato recipes.

Some of the other fellers

OK, I left out a few new members of the garden this year. And they were not happy for the omission in my previous post. Maybe Tigerella is not THE dominatrix after all. So, here goes. .

For some reason, when I shopped for tomatoesthis last weekend, I also felt compelled to pick up a...

A sweet red pepper 'cept I lost his/her tag while potting. Just know he/she is sweet, long (stop-pp-pp!) and can be eaten off the vine (stop-pp-pp again! You know who you are.)

A yellow"Golden Summer/Moon/Whatever" bell pepper. (Ok, another tag sort of lost in the shuffle)

Two "Ichiban" Japanese eggplants. This should be interesting. I love 'em, but eggplants creep out the WPS. In a good season, Ichiban is 1.) a lovely plant and 2.) prolific.

Eggplant recipes, preferably those where you don't know you're eating eggplant, are welcome. Please send immediately.

Tigerella and one or two other thoughts

Tigerella. Doesn't THAT just trip off the tongue?

It is, in fact, an heirloom tomato we're planting this spring. Hello, my lovely. Where have YOU been all my life?

I know heirloom tomatoes are culinary old news. Anybody who's anybody has eaten heirlooms since they were in knickers. But, maybe not so much in this corner of Bermtopia. Here in the Berm, we seem curiously stuck on the old standbys like Sweet 100s, Early Girl and other hybrids. As a result, heirlooms were serious news on our dinner plates last summer after a little junket to Las Vegas.

We had lunch at Todd English's Olives restaurant at The Bellagio. Among a variety of gastromic oohs and ahhs that afternoon was the WPS' caprese salad -- slices of heirloom tomatoes (the size of hamburger patties and, ohh, the colors), fresh mozzarella and a balsamic reduction. (Note: the balsamic was reportedly 100 years old.) Oh mama.

We came home to Bermtopia, sought out and devoured heirlooms al summer long. At $5.99 a pound we decided to give growing our own a rip this summer. We shall see. Bermtopia isn't always kind to tomato growers, but Tigerella's got a 56-days-to-maturity guarantee. As I said, we shall see.

And about that reduction -- four parts balsamic vinegar to one part honey (They say corn syrup is ok but nooo-ooooo, don't go there.). Simmer for 4 hours. No shortcuts. Then weep in thanksgiving as you oozle this nectar on salads, meats and whatever. Oh mama -- squared.

On to the "one or two other thoughts." I'm back in the pumpkin business, though not in a whiskey barrel this year. That's where Tigerella's living. Plus, the WPS very kindly cleared out a spot in the back of the garden next to the tomatoes. If we're lucky, pumpkin amputations will be a thing of the past. One can only hope.

Scroll down and meet "Aladdin" -- he's reportedly bigger and badder than "Orange Smoothie"

. . . I mean, 30- to 50-pounds bigger and badder.

And please, no jokes about rubbing his magic lamp. Thank you.