I had a very distinct thought while licking the spoon after this pic: “This is one of my very favorite things in the whole world.” Get on it.
When I was younger, deep in the “devouring knowledge” phase of chef’ing and (even) more extreme about cooking, I kept a fanatically updated recipe journal.
I dusted it off the other day (as much as one can dust off a virtual journal) and hit Command-F, to find when I first scribed “tomato confit.” Feb 19, 2010.
This recipe’s got legs: It’s been with me through 3 cats, 3 dogs, 3 addresses, and the same number of exes as those three numbers multiplied.
I was obsessed with the way I made this rich tomato condiment then, and I’m still obsessed with it now— nearly a decade and a half later. Fourteen years ago, I used to execute the confit properly, as I learned from Chef Bill Taibe, of Westport, CT, where his four famed restaurants continue to rack up accolades. Even in the winter, he poaches, peels, and slowly roasts plum tomatoes in olive oil, then folds them into a base of caramelized tomato paste and sugar, deglazing with sherry vinegar. The method glams up even the saddest of tomaties.
Over the years, I’ve veered from his method and crystalized my own. Now the confit is a jam-fit: ridiculously concentrated and pretty hands-off process-wise, which means that the tomatoes break down and wrinkle up. But that feels fitting. I’ve acquired 14 years of wrinkles, too.
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According to my journal, I had a dinner party for seven on that Friday night in 2010. I wrote:
“Tom Colicchio’s braised pork shoulder– 425 for 25 minutes, got really nice crust, then down to 250 for 8+ hrs. Really amazing.” (Must have been before I came up with the slab technique for braising.) I go on: “Served with manilla clams over the top, white wine, minced parsley stems, shallot, garlic, red fresno chilis. Over soft polenta, crème fraîche, purée of tomato confit (slow roasted tomatoes with garlic, thyme, fried tomato paste in oil to infuse, thyme, deglazed with sherry, sugar… puréed all of it– smooth, tomatoe-y, sweet and vinegary. ridiculous), homemade walnut bread. Mirliton, fennel, apple salad with red pepper marmalade vinaigrette- watercress, arugula, chervil, Meyer lemon.”
DAMNNNN, Nora Singley in your 20’s, will you please come over and cook for me?
Pork shoulder AND clams AND tomato confit (puréed, no less– why bother?) AND polenta AND homemade walnut bread and AND a mirliton salad and… CHERVIL, the most difficult herb– then and now– to source EVER?! I bow down to my former self. (Also, my heart kind of breaks with the mention of the “soft” polenta... is there any other kind worth mentioning, really?)
NOW: JAM-FIT SITS FRONT AND CENTER ON CRAZY MIXED PASTA. RECIPE + METHOD BELOWWWW…
I remember the plates I used to serve everything on: HUGE, SQUARE chargers, each one the weight of a 5-pound dumbbell. I bought them on sale from Macy’s. A Thanksgiving turkey could sit on one comfortably. They were perfect for dinner parties during those days, when I found it genius to serve that much food on a single plate (and then record it all in a journal with such innocent passion and newness).
MORE CENTER STAGE ACTION, AS JAM-FIT SHOULD BE.
My former self: burying a super special tomato confit among a sea of 734 other components, all made in an apartment without a dishwasher. It’s enthusiasm gone wild, like one’s maiden voyage to Mardi Gras or Burning Man, topless and sunburned and drunk and stoned and psychedelic’ed all at the same time, bathed in strands of sticky beads, coated in desert dust, and adorned with a homemade headdress made of bottle caps and synthetic feathers. It’s just… too much.
NO SYNTHETIC FEATHERS HERE. JUST SOME JAM-FIT AND A CRUMPET.
The tomato confit appears in my recipe journal 13 times since its 2010 debut. I would use it on, in, surrounding, and smothering everything that sat still long enough. Most triumphantly, on July 1, 2012, I stuffed an entirely deboned chicken (à la Jacques Pepin’s ballotine) with the confit and, according to the journal, apparently also “with sautéed Vidalia and spring onion tops, thyme, lemon zest, kale, parm. Roasted on top of garlic scapes and spring onion bulbs, halved.” Okay little Nora, we see you. And your mirliton, too.
MORE COMPLEX THAN IT APPEARS
PRONOUNCED LIKE “DUCK CONFIT” BUT SUBSTITUTE THE “DUCK CON-” WITH “JAM.” JAM-FEE.
Flash forward to today: everything goes into one pot. And into the oven. Because the tomatoes give off so much water and the lid stays on throughout roasting, it takes hours for the sauce to reduce, during which time all three tomato elements + aromatics nearly fry in the oil. This equals serious concentration and depth of tomato essence— inexplicably so, considering the whole out-of-season plum tomato thing. And hold on. Because it’ll rock you.
TRIPLE TOMATO
I’ve recently added an element that I am convinced has this sauce operating at peak performance. The plum tomatoes and tomato paste are now fortified with sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, an ingredient I feel icy towards but which in this application has my heart beating out of my ribcage.
Chopped into a paste, these sun-dried-t’s add a certain I’m-in-the-Italian-countryside-holding-a-glass-of-Chianti-during-harvest-season flavor. Add to this a spunky harmony of sherry vinegar, sugar, and anchovies melted into oblivion with herbs, and what emerges is a jam… a confit…. a jam-fit… that is… MOODY.
THIS IS WHAT 4 HOURS OF CONCENTRATION CAN DO
YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT WITH THIS?
Pasta is the obvious choice, and I’m including a method below for making “crazy mixed pasta,” aka my favorite way to use up the dregs of your rando boxes of noodles.
Slather on pizza or bread, or use as a garnish on soups or a dressing for salad or slaw. Pretend that it’s a vinaigrette, an aioli, a marinara, or a pesto. IT CAN— and will— DO IT ALL.
Today, I don’t purée it, or serve it alongside a trillion things, where it can get lost. (That’s so 2010.) I use it in applications where it shines, all alone. Because it can. It’s a lesson of enlightenment in the kitchen: take one simple and stunning thing and let it be, exalted. I prayed many times for an apartment with a dishwasher before I learned that.
REMEMBER, BEST PRACTICE: READ THE RECIPE START TO FINISH BEFORE YOU BEGIN COOKING!
This is the richest, most savory, most [insert your fave superlative here] tomato sauce/condiment/jam you may ever make. Expect to make this year-round, but it’ll surprise you most during winter months, when using out-of-season tomatoes typically proves the law of diminishing returns. This method concentrates even the most unconcentrated, blah winter tomatoes by roasting them for hours with two potent ingredients: tomato paste and sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil. What results is sweet (yes, there’s a touch of sugar), tangy (YAYYYY, sherry vinegar), and savory (anchovies, herbs, garlic).
How to use it? Pasta is one obvious choice (see below for “Crazy Mixed Pasta” instructions, which uses all the dregs from pasta boxes), but try it next to eggs, tossed through grains, or swirled into beans. Serve it on a cheese board, fold it into any vegetable dish, or spoon it atop fish, shrimp, a steak, or a chop. Slather on pizza or bread, or use as a garnish on soups or a dressing for salad or slaw. Pretend that it’s a vinaigrette, an aioli, a marinara, or a pesto. IT CAN– and will– DO IT ALL.
Like any confit, which has preservation power because it’s stored in its cooking oil, this will last in your fridge for up to a month or more. And speaking of oil: There will be a generous amount in the confit, but don’t fear it, USE it! Employ the jam-fit and its oil as you would olive oil– to sizzle or sear or sauté or drizzle.
FOR THE JAM-FIT
4 ½ pounds plum tomatoes (about 14-16 large or 18-20 small)
1 ounce (about 4-5 halves) sun-dried tomatoes in oil
1 cup olive oil
One tube (4.5-ounce) double concentrated tomato paste or one (6-ounce) can tomato paste
5 anchovies
8 large cloves garlic, peeled and smashed with the side of a chef’s knife
1 tablespoon granulated sugar, plus additional, as necessary
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes, plus additional, as necessary
5 large sprigs basil, plus additional for serving
5 large sprigs thyme
Kosher salt
⅓ cup sherry vinegar, plus more as necessary
FOR THE PASTA
12 ounces pasta, preferably of different shapes (using just one variety is perfectly fine, too)
1 ounce finely grated Parmigiano-Reggiano (about 1 cup lightly packed), plus more for serving
4 ounces fresh ricotta
Basil leaves, for serving
Olive oil, for serving
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees with a rack in the lower-third.
2. Make the tomato jam-fit: Cut 4½ pounds plum tomatoes in half lengthwise and place in a large Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid. Finely chop 1 ounce sun-dried tomatoes in oil, continuing to chop until they resemble a paste. You should have 2 packed tablespoons. Add to the Dutch oven, along with 1 cup olive oil, the tube or can of tomato paste, 5 anchovies, 8 cloves smashed garlic, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, ½teaspoon red pepper flakes, 5 sprigs basil, 5 sprigs thyme, and 1 tablespoon kosher salt. Stir to combine, cover, and transfer to the oven. Roast, stirring halfway through, for 1 hour 45 minutes.
3. Add ⅓ cup sherry vinegar and stir, breaking up the tomatoes a bit with your spoon. Recover the pot and continue roasting, stirring every 30 minutes and continuing to break up the tomatoes, until sauce is reduced, tomatoes have lost nearly all of their liquid, and the edges of the pan are darkened and caramelized, about 1 ½ - 2 hours and 15 minutes more. (The size of your pot and the juiciness of the tomatoes will determine your timing; A small pot with very juicy tomatoes will take longer to reduce than a large pot with less juicy tomatoes.)
4. Remove pot from the oven and discard any pesky basil and thyme sprigs. Taste for seasoning and adjust with additional salt, red pepper flakes, sugar, or vinegar. Every batch of tomatoes is different, so really get in there and season to your taste! The sauce should taste punchy, concentrated, and rich. If it doesn’t, start by adding salt. Need sweetness? Add a pinch of sugar. Brightness? Go for a small splash of vinegar. You get the idea. If you have extra basil leaves, you can throw some fresh ones in to infuse extra basil flavor, too.
Use as you wish! Jam-fit will stay in the refrigerator for 1-2 months.
FOR THE CRAZY MIXED PASTA
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt generously.
2. Measure out 12 ounces of mixed pastas. (This is ¾ of a 1-pound box.) Examine the cook times on the boxes. Add the pasta with the longest cooking time to the pot. Back out the rest of the pasta shapes according to their cook times, and begin checking for doneness at 2 minutes less than the package instructions direct. For example: if you’re using rigatoni, orecchiette, spaghetti, and ditalini, with 12, 9, 8, and 6 minute cook times, respectively, add the rigatoni first, followed by the orecchiette 3 minutes later. After 1 minute of the orecchiette being in the pot, add the spaghetti, and after 2 more minutes, add the ditalini. A true test of your subtraction skills! Begin checking for doneness after 10 minutes from when you added the rigatoni.
3. Drain the pasta, reserving a big cupful of pasta water. Return pasta to the pot, along with one cup of the tomato jam-fit. Fold to combine, adding splashes of pasta water to loosen the sauce. Grate about 1-ounce Parmigiano-Reggiano into the pot and continue folding and adding pasta water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the noodles are well-coated and your desired consistency is reached. Season to taste with salt and additional red pepper flakes.
4. Serve, topped with a dollop of ricotta, basil leaves, a drizzle of olive oil, and additional parm.
This sounds sooo good! Congrats on your other project, too!
Wow. Excellent!👍😊