Fresh Heirloom Tomato Salad

Ten weeks and I am starting to feel slightly more like myself, which the books say is coming at twelve weeks and which seems to be arriving early in the optimistic way things sometimes do. I have been able to cook properly for the first time in three weeks. I made pasta with roasted tomatoes and garlic and basil from the balcony on Monday and it stayed down and tasted right and I stood at the stove eating it directly from the pan and felt returned to myself.

The balcony is in full June glory: cherry tomatoes are just starting to come in, Pedro II has six peppers now and Ryan says good morning to them, the basil is enormous. I have been spending time out there every evening, watering and checking things, in the particular way that tending a garden is also a way of being patient and trusting the process. You water, you check, you wait. The thing grows on its own timeline. This is the clearest metaphor I have ever been handed and I am not going to push it further than that.

Twelve weeks is next week. We have our first real OB appointment on Friday and the standard first trimester screening. I have been doing this quietly for ten weeks — no blog mention, only Ryan and immediate family who needed to know — and the holding of it has been its own kind of intimacy. Something this big, just ours for a while. We will share it when the time comes. The time is almost here.

Ryan drew a sketch this week of the balcony garden, with a small note in the bottom corner that he handed to me without comment. I looked at it for a while. He had drawn everything that is usually on the balcony, and then, in the corner, a small figure — just lines, a shape — that was not there yet but might be soon, in a year or two, standing at the railing looking at Pedro II. I looked at him and he looked at the drawing and did not say anything. Neither did I. Some things do not need to be said. They just need to be drawn.

The pasta I made Monday used every good thing the balcony had to offer, and afterward I kept thinking about the cherry tomatoes still coming in — the ones that are just barely ripe, the ones Ryan and I have been watching for weeks — and how they deserve a recipe that lets them be exactly what they are. This Fresh Heirloom Tomato Salad is what I made with the ones that followed, because after a stretch of not being able to cook at all, I wanted something that asked almost nothing of me and gave back everything. It’s the kind of dish that tastes like proof that summer is real, that the garden came through, that things are, quietly and against all the odds of the past ten weeks, going to be fine.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 10 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

2 lbs mixed heirloom tomatoes, sliced or cut into wedges
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
1/4 small red onion, thinly sliced
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon sugar (optional, to balance acidity)

Instructions

Slice the tomatoes. Cut heirloom tomatoes into 1/4-inch slices or rustic wedges depending on their size. Arrange them in a single, slightly overlapping layer on a large serving platter.
Add the aromatics. Scatter the thinly sliced red onion over the tomatoes, then distribute the torn basil leaves evenly across the top.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, salt, pepper, and sugar if using. Taste and adjust seasoning.
Dress and rest. Drizzle the dressing evenly over the salad. Let the salad sit at room temperature for 5–10 minutes before serving so the tomatoes release a little of their juice and the flavors settle together.
Finish and serve. Give the platter one final pinch of flaky salt over the top and serve immediately at room temperature. Do not refrigerate — cold dulls the tomatoes’ flavor.

Nutrition (per serving)

Fresh Heirloom Tomato Salad — From the Balcony, With Everything