I looooathe store bought tomatoes. Like really, really hate them in all their pithiness, sour taste, and overbearing acidic flavor. But, homegrown, vine-ripened tomatoes=bliss, culinary nirvana, heaven.
Anywhoosy, because I lacked the foresight to plant my own tomatoes, I’ve been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of a friend’s bounty. One of the simplest summer dining pleasures I know is a plain tomato sandwich: white bread (yes, white bread-sorry), a light mayo, some thickly sliced tomatoes with a little s & p. Delish.
But I digress. Houligan 3 wanted breakfast this morning. So in my eternal quest to dream up new ways to use the tomatoes, I offered to make him poached eggs on whole wheat toast with pan-seared tomatoes. He tried to force me to fry the eggs. I refused the little Gourmand. I had a vision.
And this was it:
Little Man ate it right up. So yummy.
Writing this post has made me hungry all over again. I hope there are still tomatoes left!
p.s. I would rather make ten Baked Alaskas than poach eggs. They are cooking Kryptonite to me. I can do it, it’s just always interesting how they are going to turn out. Every 12th time they end up down the drain! But I find them so divine, I just can’t abandon them.