The occasional recipe: Laurie Colwin’s tomato pie

In my last post I mentioned Laurie Colwin, a writer who inspired the same kind of great affection as the late Wendy Wasserstein. Like Wasserstein, Colwin died tragically young and, like her, had a quality in her work that made me feel she could have been one of my best friends if only we had had the chance to meet.

In addition to her wonderful novels and short stories–and if you haven’t read them I strongly suggest you do–she wrote essays on food which were collected into two books, “Home Cooking” and “More Home Cooking.” Mixed into with the smart, funny, opinionated musings are some terrific recipes. One of them is a tomato pie that never fails to delight. When I made it for a brunch not long ago, everyone wanted the recipe. Recently my friend Dan said it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. So you really need to try it.

Colwin offers it with a made-from-scratch biscuit crust that I can only imagine is heavenly, but which I have never made. Because I’m really bad at pie crusts, I have, instead, used frozen prepared ones. And still it tastes delicious! In these waning days of the tomato season you could make it with fresh tomatoes, but the recipe calls for–and I have always used–canned. Colwin’s recipes aren’t in standard recipe format, but, rather, are offered in a kind of chatty discussion, as if she were giving you the recipe over a kitchen table. So here is the recipe, as it appears in “More Home Cooking”:

“I have never yet encountered tomatoes in any form unloved by me. Often at night I find myself ruminating about two previously mysterious tomato dishes, which I was brazen enough to get the recipes for. One is Tomato Pie and is a staple of a tea shop called Chaiwalla, owned by Mary O’Brien, in Salisbury, Connecticut. According to Mary, the original recipe was found in a cookbook put out by the nearby Hotchkiss School, but she has changed it sufficiently to claim it as her own. The pie has a double biscuit-dough crust, made by blending 2 cups flour, 1 stick butter, 4 teaspoons baking powder, and approximately 3/4 cup milk, either by hand or in a food processor. You roll out half the dough on a floured surface and line a 9-inch pie plate with it. Then you add the tomatoes. Mary makes this pie year round and uses first-quality canned tomatoes, but at this time of year 2 pounds peeled fresh tomatoes are fine, too. Drain well and slice thin two 28-ounce cans plum tomatoes, then lay the slices over the crust and scatter them with chopped basil, chives, or scallions, depending on their availability and your mood. Grate 1 1/2 cups sharp Cheddar and sprinkle 1 cup of it on top of the tomatoes. Then over this drizzle 1/3 cup mayonnaise that has been thinned with 2 tablespoons lemon juice, and top everything with the rest of the grated Cheddar. Roll out the remaining dough, fit it over the filling, and pinch the edges of the dough together to seal them. Cut several steam vents in the top crust and bake the pie at 400F for about 25 minutes. The secret of this pie, according to Mary, is to reheat it before serving, which among other things ensures that the cheese is soft and gooey. She usually bakes it early in the morning, then reheats it in the evening in a 350F oven, until it is hot.

“It is hard to describe how delicious this is, especially on a hot day with a glass of magnificent iced tea in a beautiful setting, but it would doubtless be just as scrumptious on a cold day in your warm kitchen with a cup of coffee.”

For Colwin’s other favorite tomato treat, you’ll just have to get the book! I would suggest eating this pie with good friends and offering a nod of gratitude to this gifted and generous writer.

To read or not to read

I hate to start and book and not finish it. And I know I’m not alone in this. It feels like some kind of character flaw, or maybe a breakdown in the unstated contract between reader and writer. And yet at this very moment I have TWO books on my nightstand that I probably will not finish.

The first is “The Adventures of Augie March,” Saul Bellow’s early break-through coming-of-age novel. It’s masterfully written and every time I pick it up I am astounded by Bellow’s craft, his beautiful use of language, his astounding breadth of reference. And then I put it down. I’ve been reading it since May. Okay, it’s not a short book, but still. Since May I’ve read maybe a dozen other books, many of them just as long if not longer. And I keep asking myself why I can’t seem to stick with this one. I know this is an admission of my deep lack of something or other, but, much as I admire the writing, I’m just not all that interested in the story. So I am close to admitting defeat and putting Augie back on the shelf, where–true–I could resume reading any time.

Then there is “The Corrections,“ the book Jonathan Franzen wrote before he was anointed Boy Genius, Great American Writer, and maybe the Second Coming of Elvis for his new novel, “Freedom.” There was a little something gnawing at me that felt as if Franzen’s Genius was being crammed down my throat. But I hadn’t read this earlier novel and there it was on the shelf, just waiting. Reader, I hated it. I know, I know, many people have loved it. Many people whose opinions on books I respect have loved it. But not me. I find his repetition of the word “correction” used in various ways, annoying and silly. I find his characters mostly small and unlikable; the few I liked the most seemed to be the ones he liked the least. And, up to page 335 out of 562, I am not seeing the ambition of scope that I had expected. I closed the book last night and have returned it to its place next to E.M Forster. Hmmm.

Meanwhile, as a little palate-cleanser, I picked up Laurie Colwin’s “The Lone Pilgrim.”which I had not looked at in many years. Colwin, if you are not familiar with her, wrote five luminous novels, two short story collections, and a series of food columns that were collected into two books. Sadly, she died at 48, in 1992. Her stories are filled with characters you wish you knew–complex and human and trying to figure out their lives. Here’s a small taste selected totally at random: “Woe to those who get what they desire. Fulfillment leaves an empty space where your old self used to be, the self that pines and broods and reflects. You furnish a dream house in your imagination, but how startling and final when that dream house is your own address. What is left to you? Surrounded by what you wanted, you feel a sense of amputation. The feelings you were used to abiding with are useless. The conditions you established for your happiness are met.”

Next post I’ll give you the recipe for her fabulous tomato pie!