Tomatoes Rockefeller -- What the Garden Still Gives in September

The garden is winding down for the season, and there's a melancholy to it that feels appropriate — everything winding down, turning inward, getting ready for the cold. The last tomatoes are small and green and probably won't ripen. I picked them anyway and put them on the windowsill, because hope is what you do with green tomatoes in September. Hope and a sunny window.

I fried some. Green tomato night. Sliced thick, dipped in buttermilk, dredged in cornmeal seasoned with salt and pepper and a pinch of cayenne, fried in the cast iron until golden. Served with remoulade — mayo, mustard, horseradish, a little pickle relish. Earl loved fried green tomatoes more than almost anything, and I made them tonight not because I'm wallowing but because the garden gave them to me and I will not waste what the garden gives. Not ever. That was Mama's rule and it is mine.

Kayla came over with news: she's been asked to precept a nursing student at Memorial. She's been there barely a year and they're already trusting her to teach. Twenty-three years old and teaching. I said, "Baby, you know what that means?" She said, "It means they trust me." I said, "It means you're becoming the nurse that other nurses want to be." She got quiet. The kind of quiet that means she's absorbing something too big for a quick response. That's Michael's quiet. That's the Henderson quiet.

Miss Corrine is doing poorly. She's eighty-five now and her daughter Sharon called me from Macon to ask if I'd been checking on her. I have. Every other day, I bring her something — soup, cornbread, a plate of whatever I made for dinner. She eats less every week. She talks about Henry more. Her memory is going soft around the edges, the way old photographs fade. I don't correct her when she gets the details wrong. Details are for young people. At eighty-five, the feeling is what matters.

The fall is here, baby. The light is golden. The marsh is turning. And I am still standing in this kitchen, still cooking, still feeding the people within arm's reach. That's the whole job. It always has been.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I didn’t fry every tomato the garden gave me that last week — some I saved for this, because Tomatoes Rockefeller is the kind of thing you make when you want the meal to feel like it means something. With Kayla’s news still warm in the room and a plate set aside for Miss Corrine, I needed a dish that was generous and savory and a little bit proud, the way the whole evening felt. The garden doesn’t ask for much in return. You just have to show up and cook.

Tomatoes Rockefeller

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 22 minutes | Total Time: 37 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 6 medium tomatoes, halved crosswise
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1/2 cup yellow onion, finely chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 (10 oz) package frozen chopped spinach, thawed and squeezed very dry
• 3/4 cup dry breadcrumbs, divided
• 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese
• 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 teaspoon hot sauce
• 1/4 teaspoon dried thyme
• Salt and black pepper to taste
• 2 tablespoons melted butter, for topping

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a baking sheet or shallow baking dish with foil. Using a small spoon, scoop out a shallow well from the center of each tomato half, discarding the pulp and seeds. Place tomatoes cut-side up on the prepared pan and season lightly with salt and pepper.
2. Build the filling. In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter with the olive oil. Add the onion and cook until softened, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat and stir in the squeezed-dry spinach, 1/2 cup of the breadcrumbs, the Parmesan, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, and thyme. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
3. Fill the tomatoes. Spoon the spinach mixture evenly into each tomato half, mounding it slightly. In a small bowl, toss the remaining 1/4 cup breadcrumbs with the melted butter and sprinkle over the top of each stuffed tomato.
4. Bake until golden. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the tomatoes are tender and the breadcrumb topping is deep golden brown. If you want more color on top, run them under the broiler for the last 2 minutes — watch them close.
5. Serve warm. Let rest 5 minutes before serving. These are good on their own as a side, or alongside a piece of cornbread and something green.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 188 | Protein: 6g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 348mg