Seasonal Public Service - Julia Childs' Baked Stuffed Tomato Recipe

Submitted by Jeff Buster on Mon, 09/07/2009 - 17:42.
Seasonal Public Service - Julia Childs' Baked Stuffed Tomato Recipe


Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until bread crumbs are slightly browned but tomatoes still hold their shape.

(Save the tomato seeds and juice and add to/or make soup for another meal)

Bon Appetit


a word from me, Jeff Buster:  This dish is really delectible.   I can easily eat half of this recipe.  So if you are trying

to move tomatoes out of the garden in the autumn rush, prepare this dish, and invite me to dinner!

Recipe from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, Simone Beck, published 1970

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How much did you pay that laborer?

Jeff, you know the economics of local foods farm labor - does it currently pay a living wage? Are there benefits for workers? Are workers represented in the industry? Are there hazards to health of workers which may be of concern to workers? Might some farm owners take advantage or put workers in harms way for more profit?

How does it work on the farms and coops in CA? In OH?

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Is this a viable processed local food product?

Your recipe says this may be prepared in advance. How long in advance - does it refrigerate for days or weeks... does it freeze... shrink-wrapped, what is the shelf life?

From your recipe, it appears most ingredients may be locally grown. All that is missing is labor and a food production economy.

All you need is a food processing facility and some skilled workers and this could be a big local foods money maker for an enterprising local foods entrepreneur like yourself, and a cooperative of growers, food producers, and their support infrastruture and team.

That would allow tomato growers to receive top dollar for the tomatoes they grow, and allow you to eat local Tomatos a la Provencal for as long after the crops are gone as possible, as cost effectively and with the greatest local economic benefit as possible.

Perhaps it would even be popular with school lunch programs, getting kids to enjoy local tomatoes...

Evelyn has THE BEST recipe for local pasta sauce... it'll make lots of local foods workers lots of money!

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Jeff this sounds similar to

Jeff this sounds similar to my hillbilly "mato pie"  Sliced tomatoes layered in a pie crust, salted and peppered, mashed garlic, green onions, fresh basil, parsley, thyme, olive oil - layered with thin slices of provolone cheese - topped with bread crumbs. 

collard greens after the frost

I went out to fetch some horse manure and seeds and garlic to plant from a friend and she surprised me with an armload of sweet collards. Apparently this usually bitter green is sweeter after the frost and eating it right off the plant, I can vouch for that. This is the recipe we'll use.

Black-Eyed Peas With Collard Greens

Even though it's not the standard southern style meal I thought I'd be having with them, it sounds delicious and in a few hours, it should be ready for the test. And yes, I'll make a pan of cornbread.

The leeks will become a soup with potatoes and Hartzler's milk and cream. Mmmmm...

the southern version is hoppin' john

I have made both the southern version and the vegetarian version. I think that I will buy some collards tomorrow and make this as it is the time of the year for it. BTW, why horse manure and not cow? Is it a heat issue? 

my friend has a horse

The reason I got horse manure is that it is what her horse puts out daily. She doesn't have a cow.

I recall one time when I went to visit my Mom in Florida with a friend. We stopped at a roadside stand and could not resist a half bushel of ripe Georgia peaches - replete with fuzz. Three days later when we were about to leave, Mom said there was no way she could eat all those peaches after we left. She made cobbler and packed it in a plastic container in a little zip-top six-pack container for us to carry on the plane. TSA was not then what is is now, but you did have to have carry-on items run through the x-ray dealio. They stopped us when they ran our six-pack of cobbler through the thingy. "Whatcha got in there?" "Peach cobbler", I said. "Sure." Three inspectors looked at me like I had two heads. One of them carefully unzipped the plaid six-pack holder circa 1970. He opened the plastic container and said, "Uh, yep, peach cobbler. Looks good." He zipped it up and we were on our way. As we walked toward the gate, we heard the inspectors bust out laughing. We ate some of the cobbler on the plane on the way home. It was the kind of peach cobbler that makes you grin after eating.

I thought of that episode as I drove back from the west side with a car full of horse manure - six five gallon buckets and a bushel basket in the trunk and a large plastic container of it on the backseat. I imagined how the scene might unfold if I was stopped and some nosy cop wanted to know what was in that container riding in my backseat. I imagined saying, "Collards in the front seat and horse shit in the back - that's just how I roll." It was a smooth ride though. No traffic stops.


Think about it Susan,  the

Think about it Susan,  the cop could have been "citified" and thought you were just being a smartass, hauled you out, cuffed you and then stuck his nose in your bucket.  Most people don't know that horse shit is like gold, people sell that stuff for money.  Down in the hollers, they stock pile it all winter long saving it for garden time (they have really big gardens)  and the shit seems to have a long shelf life because if they don't use the entire pile over the garden one spring, they just keep stacking on for the next round - which will be for a cold weather planting.

A lot of their gardens are on hill sides -steep inclines and getting the shit up there is a bit crafty.  A lot of times the poor old horse (mule) has to haul his own crap up the hill to ferterlize the soil.  Speaking of mule........

Way, way back in the day the first summer when I was learning to be a married girl, we had a stubburn ole mule and my husband worked for the sawmill and part of his job was to get the logs out of the mountains and to the mill.   He would skid the logs down to where the mule could hook up and drag them to be loaded onto the loggin'  truck for transport to the mill.  He was working back in the head of the holler where we lived (called "Punchin Camp") and on one hot summer day I decided that I'd be a good wife and take my hard working man a jug of refreshing ice water - but I didn't have a jug.  So, I went to HIS mother and ask to borrow a jug, now this must have been a prize winning jug because she gave me the low down on how not to break, damage, lose or destroy this glass jug with a bale.  I promised.

I pertly started on my trek up this rugged dirt road not having any idea where in the hell how far or where I would find the thirsty fellers.  I walked for about 45 minutes and could faintly hear a chainsaw somewhere off in the forest but with cow paths and loggin' trails leading in a number of directions, I wasn't sure which way I should go.  Being back in the woods, by yourself and scared will help you choose quiclkly.  Looking around at the different tracks, I made my choice and after another 30 minutes or so of hiking, I finally got a glimpse of the logging truck some distance ahead.  By this time, I figured that if these guys (my husband and his brother) wanted a drink, they'd better be getting to the truck.  I waited for a bit longer and finally thought I walk a ways further with this jug of water which was now just cold  (no ice) and maybe 20 minutes into the hike, I saw them standing by the mule.  They were in conversation, slinging tobacco spit and making motions with their hands, obviously there was a problem.  Upon nearing the scene I could hear some vulgar four-letter words and these two sweaty men looked kinda wore out and tired and when they saw me they looked really suprised but appreciative about getting a drink of cool refreshing water.

We talked a bit and I learned that the ole mule was having one of it's "I ain't movin' for anybody" days.  While we rested, I explained about the extended jug warnings and that it must make it back in prestine shape.  I had given my word to my new mother-in-law.   Brother-in-law Robert decided that he would give it a try at getting the ole mule to move and so he took the reins and I heard words like hee and haw but no movement.  Frustrations, anger and whatever else this ole mule had was gettin on their last nerve.  They yanked and pulled, pushed, urged, talked, yelled, petted, cursed - this mule was not budging an inch -  it was hot and humid, getting up in the afternoon, bees were buzzing around, flies were nippin at the ole mule's ears - My husband stepped over and took the jug to take another drink, brother Robert still holding the reins trying to get this big brute to go forward  and then in a flash, with no warning, my husband hit that mule over the head with that  jug of water and broke HIS mother's prized glass jug into a million pieces.  I was dumbfounded - The mule reared and and took off nearly dragging both those fools all the way to the logging truck and I had to try to keep up.  It took another hour and a half to load the logs on the truck and by the time we got back home it was 6:00pm.  My mother-in-law stayed mad at me for weeks because HER son broke HER prized plain ole glass jug over HIS mule's head.  I did not go on any other water jaunts.  After that I made sure to remind him he'd best take a thermos .