Roasted Tomato, Garlic & White Bean Toasts
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The tomatoes have reached the point in late summer when several must be dealt with today.
Not admired.
Not placed on the windowsill with vague intentions.
Dealt with.
I came in from the garden carrying a bowlful in every possible shape: split, crooked, enormous, tiny, and one that had cracked on the vine and was therefore promoted to eat immediately.
It accepted the promotion with dignity.
The rest became supper.
Roasting is useful when tomatoes have abandoned any attempt at uniformity. Once their edges collapse and caramelize, nobody remembers which one was lopsided.
They become glossy and jammy and very convincing.
I spooned them over creamy lemony white beans and thick toast, then carried the whole situation outside while the evening was still warm.
It did not remain warm.
Fortunately, there was a blanket.
Roasted Tomato, Garlic & White Bean Toasts
Serves: 3–4
Ingredients
For the roasted tomatoes
- 1½ pounds ripe tomatoes, preferably a mixture of sizes
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced or lightly crushed
- ½ teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
- freshly ground black pepper
- 1 teaspoon fresh thyme or oregano leaves, or ½ teaspoon dried
For the creamy white beans
- 1 15-ounce can cannellini or other white beans, drained and rinsed
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 small garlic clove, finely grated or minced
- 2–3 tablespoons water
- salt and freshly ground black pepper
- zest of ½ lemon
- 1–2 teaspoons lemon juice
To assemble
- 4 thick slices rustic bread
- olive oil, for brushing
- fresh basil or additional herbs, if available
Roast the tomatoes
Heat the oven to 425°F / 220°C.
Halve the small tomatoes and cut the larger ones into generous chunks. Place them on a baking tray with the olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, and thyme or oregano.
Toss everything together, then arrange the tomatoes in a single layer.
They do not need to look orderly.
They are about to collapse.
Roast for 25–35 minutes, until the tomatoes are soft and blistered, with caramelized edges and plenty of glossy juices gathering on the tray.
The exact time will depend on the size and enthusiasm of your tomatoes.
Make the beans
While the tomatoes roast, place the drained beans in a small pan with the olive oil, garlic, two tablespoons of water, a pinch of salt, and several turns of black pepper.
Warm them gently over medium-low heat, stirring now and then.
Once the beans are hot and the garlic has softened, crush roughly half of them with the back of a wooden spoon. Leave the rest whole.
This is important.
If you crush all of them, the topping becomes paste.
Useful paste, perhaps.
But still paste.
Keeping some of the beans whole gives the mixture a better texture and something for your teeth to remain involved with.
Stir in the lemon zest and a small squeeze of lemon juice. Add another splash of water if needed. The beans should be creamy enough to mound on the bread without running off it.
Taste and adjust the salt, pepper, or lemon.
This is quality control.
Again.
Toast the bread
Brush the bread lightly with olive oil and toast until golden, with crisp edges and enough structure to support a generous amount of supper.
You can do this in the oven during the final few minutes of roasting, under the broiler, or in a sturdy pan.
I used the oven because it was already hot and asking one appliance to perform two tasks seemed reasonable.
Assemble
Spread the warm beans thickly over each piece of toast.
Spoon the roasted tomatoes over the beans, making sure to include some of the garlic and juices from the tray.
One tomato slipped from my spoon while I was assembling the first toast.
It landed harmlessly back on the tray.
I considered this evidence that supper was participating.
Finish with fresh basil or additional herbs, if you have them, and a final turn of black pepper.
Serve warm rather than piping hot.
By the time the tomatoes were ready, the cottage had filled gradually with the smell of roasted garlic, herbs, and caramelizing tomato juices.
Smokey materialized in the kitchen doorway.
He had shown no interest in the washing, chopping, bean crushing, or bread toasting. But roasting had occurred, and apparently this required immediate investigation.
He sat beside the cupboard and watched me assemble the toasts with deep professional focus.
I showed him the beans.
His disappointment was profound.
Temporary, but profound.
He remained nearby in case the ingredients changed.
They did not.
I carried my plate onto the porch just as the light began turning lavender-blue at the edge of the garden. The kitchen stayed golden behind me, and Monday’s seed envelopes were still tucked safely on the shelf beside the window.
The toast was crisp at the edges, the beans soft and lemony, and the tomatoes had roasted down into warm, garlicky heaps that required leaning over the plate slightly while eating.
This is not criticism.
The blanket folded over the back of my chair had seemed unnecessary when I sat down.
After sunset, it became extremely necessary.
I wrapped it around my shoulders and finished the last toast while Smokey occupied the portion of the chair he felt I had failed to use efficiently.
There are still tomatoes in the garden.
Several of them are becoming tomorrow’s problem.
Tonight’s were excellent.
You can browse the everyday bakeware, wooden spoons, and kitchen tools I use around the cottage in my Cozy Cottage Kitchen Witch Essentials collection.
— Maeve
A curated collection of teas, mugs, honey, infusers, and cozy companions inspired by quiet mornings at Moonbeam Cottage.
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