[Antarctica]
"However, as I thought about the Saturdays we used to spend making this, I realized how perfect the dish was for Antarctica."
Antarctica was not on the project list. In my mind, Antarctica is a giant iceberg for penguins and not for people. The food they eat is fish. Overfishing actually resulted in a shortage of food for the penguins, and after one of their own discovered he was able to communicate with the humans through dance, we realized that penguins need the fish more than we do. Or maybe I just watched Happy Feet one too many times as a child. Regardless, I had not originally thought about the cuisine of Antarctica, as there are no permanent human establishments on the continent. Still, when I made a goal to hit every continent, it seemed lame to say “except Antarctica.” And so the research began.
This section is the only one in which I create a dish based on assumptions rather than follow a recipe. Most of those assumptions came from Cool Antarctica, which describes what food is feasible for scientists to bring, cook, and consume while doing research. The highlight of this article was discovering that freshly baked bread is a delight for everyone on base. I started making bread about a year and a half ago, and while I definitely still consider myself a beginner, it has become a relaxing (and delicious) pastime. But how could I turn fresh bread into a meal worthy of being called dinner? That’s when it hit me: my mom’s roasted tomatoes.
My mom found a recipe circa 2009 in Bon Appetit for oven-roasted tomatoes. The recipe was basic enough, but the trouble was time. The tomatoes need at least three hours in the oven to fully bring out their sweet, acidic taste. Afterwards, they need about an hour in the fridge to soak up the flavors of fresh parsley and raw garlic. However, as I thought about the Saturdays we used to spend making this, I realized how perfect the dish was for Antarctica. While the recipe recommends fresh tomatoes, we had always used canned peeled whole tomatoes instead. The only other ingredients were a four-finger pinch each of sugar, salt, dried oregano, and a lot of olive oil. A scare-your-doctor amount of olive oil. But in Antarctica, fat replaces energy lost by just trying to stay warm. Plus, fat is what makes food taste good.
Not only is this dish non-perishable, it’s ridiculously easy and keeps well. A large can’s worth of roasted tomatoes will last about a week in the fridge. I picked a Sunday afternoon and began cooking. Preheat the oven. Slice the tomatoes. Coat them in olive oil. Top with sugar, salt, and oregano. Done. I slid the pan in the oven and started thinking about bread. I used a white sandwich loaf recipe from Joshua Wiessman, which required very little active effort. Mix, rest, knead, roll, proof in a loaf pan, enter the oven. I set the oven at a temperature that would accommodate both components, and I let them cook.
The waiting was the hardest part. I tried to put on a podcast and tune out, but the smell of freshly baked bread and sizzling tomatoes was impossible to ignore. The bread only took forty minutes, but waiting three hours for the tomatoes was unbearable. Every half an hour, I’d take them out, flip them, and put them back in. The intervals between flipping got shorter as the smell got stronger. Finally, when the edges of the tomatoes were crispy and the outsides were wrinkled, I knew it was time to move them to the fridge. I chopped four cloves of garlic, ripped some parsley leaves, and combined everything in a heat-proof tupperware. The warm oil would capture the flavor of the fresh ingredients as they rested in the fridge for another hour. In the meantime, I turned my oven to broil to toast my bread (there’s no room for my silverware in the kitchen, let alone a toaster!). As I sliced my loaf, steam escaped from the center of the plush, white interior. I let them get golden brown. Once the hour of rest was up, I grabbed two tomatoes with a fork and a fair bit of excess oil. The tomatoes had softened from the oil, and spread with little effort. I covered every inch of my bread with my tomato spread.
First bite. It was 2009 and I had a snow day with my mom. She had set me up with some napkins since the oil was dripping down my chin. I wanted every day to be a snow day. Second bite. I hated eating cereal for breakfast while knowing these were in the fridge. I argued with my mom about how much garlic was acceptable for breakfast. Third bite. I came home from a bad day in high school to this smell. I realized it wouldn’t be a bad day for long. Fourth bite. I’m home from college for my first winter break. I had completely forgotten about the tomatoes until they were placed before me on my second afternoon back. Fifth bite. I’m back in my apartment, and the piece of bread is gone. I reach for my bread knife to slice another.
What did this meal have in common with the previous ones? Comfort. If I were away doing research for months at a time, comfort is also exactly what I’d need. I don’t know what country roasted tomatoes are from, or what cuisine this loaf of bread falls into. But to me, they both belong in Antarctica.