Market Share — Salty language? Sacre bleu!

Not to shill, but the little container of Mallorcan Flor de Sal d’Estrenc (with black olives), with its tasteful packaging and earthy aroma, delighted me instantly. And when I discovered how easily it could be incorporated into meals — a sprinkle on a caramelized mushroom and onion pizza, a decorative dash on a simply grilled fish — it became this summer’s go-to seasoning.


You wouldn’t know winter was coming by the looks of the Jean-Talon Market
Photos by Stacey DeWolfe

 
Despite being delighted by the smoked salt-encrusted (and perfectly grilled) scallop that I noshed on at Club Chasse et Pêche in 2010, I have never been a fan of flavoured salt, nor has my kitchen been the location of any fancy salt-based experimentation. Until this summer, that is. What I couldn’t possibly know was how much I would come to love the olive-flavoured salt a friend gave me for taking care of her cats.

Not to shill, but the little container of Mallorcan Flor de Sal d’Estrenc (with black olives), with its tasteful packaging and earthy aroma, delighted me instantly. And when I discovered how easily it could be incorporated into meals — a sprinkle on a caramelized mushroom and onion pizza, a decorative dash on a simply grilled fish — it became this summer’s go-to seasoning.

But like every year in the weeks following Pop Montreal — when I think back over the years, it’s always the weekend after Pop that I reluctantly turn on the heaters — summer is indeed over. The markets, however, have not quite accepted this turn of events, their workers bedecked in sweaters and fingerless gloves, their booths laden with squashes and gourds, and all manner of late August fare: greens and garlic, hot peppers and pickling cukes, eggplants and tomatillos, and bushels of beautiful roma tomatoes that I simply could not walk away from.

For this recipe, which was inspired by my mother-in-law’s own experiments, I decided to make some slow-roasted tomatoes. I sliced the tomatoes into paper thin slices and laid them on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper, then drizzled them with olive oil and sprinkled them with olive salt. They roasted in a 250 F oven for about an hour, long enough for the juices to evaporate and the flavours to deepen. If you like your tomatoes on the crisp side, which is odd, but actually quite delicious, leave them in for another 20-30 minutes, checking frequently.

There are many things you can do with oven-dried tomatoes, but because we had this heap of crumbly cornbread to repurpose and were feeling the need to be frugal (which always seems to settle in around this time of year), we decided make something cheap and comforting for dinner: a cornbread pudding with sausage, kale and slow-roasted tomato.

You can basically pour a mixture of egg and milk over any kind of starch and call it dinner. For colour and flavour, throw in some cheese, vegetables, meat (if you’re so inclined) and fresh or dried herbs. What you end up with is something that is deeply satisfying and also surprisingly pretty to look at — servable, even — because the eggs puff up like a soufflé (without all the fuss) and the cheese bubbles and browns.

We like to prepare the vegetables first, to bring out their flavours. The sausage is boiled (to get rid of the excess fat) and browned, the greens sautéed with garlic and butter until dry. With this list of ingredients, I would tend toward something blue in the cheese department, such as Bleu d’Auvergne, but you could really use almost anything you have lying around.

Simply mix the crumbled bread, sausage and kale in a baking dish. Pour the liquid — two eggs beaten into a cup of milk for each cup of bread — over top. Lay the roasted tomatoes on top and dot the dish with hunks of blue cheese. If you have the time, prepare the dish early and leave it in the fridge for a bit so that the bread has a chance to soak up the egg mixture. Bake at 375 F for 45 minutes or until golden. ■

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