Balsamic Tomato with Goat Cheese

When I was a kid, like seven or eight years old (mom will probably correct me in the comments if I’m way off on the age), I had a diary. It was bound in red and white, with a rainbow and little flowers and Hello Kitty written in bubble letters across the cover. The titular cat was featured in a line drawing in the bottom corner of the recto pages, snuggled up next to the fat red rule lines. Needless to say, all of these features were appealing, but nothing matched the promise of the lock. That wonderful, red plastic lock with the shiny gold shackle and – even better – the key.  Of course, I was seven or eight years old. I had nothing to say, and certainly nothing worth locking away. Mostly it was full of “my favorite color is yellow” and other such juicy gossip. (It’s not anymore. It’s orange. Don’t tell anybody.)

My next real foray into diary-keeping wasn’t until early college, when you and I and everyone we know had a livejournal. No more lock and key, but plenty of angst over social injustices like when they stopped producing Diet Vanilla Coke.

I again lived a mostly undocumented life until 2008, when Twitter served as my memory’s external hard drive. After a year or so of foisting every fleeting little musing onto the Internet, I gave up on that, too. The Internet heaved a sigh of relief, I'm sure.

All of this to answer a question I’ve been asking myself: Why Soupruary 2014? Is a fifth year of this really a good idea? I know plenty of better cooks and better writers, and at this point I’ve made a truly ridiculous number of soups. Like, at least a lifetime's worth. 

But for one month out of the year, this is my diary. With most of my output these days being throwaway status updates, texts or emails, why not at least know what I ate on February 1, 2014? The answer:

What I ate was good.

Logan and I loved this place called Burnell’s, an itty-bitty restaurant on Vine Street downtown.  For lunch, chef Nathan Jolley had great sandwiches and soups, grits du jour, and hot shortbread cookies made to order at the end of your meal, but he also had the best soups. His rotating menu featured a mean vichyssoise and this Dutch potato soup  that necessitated moans of pure satisfaction after every bite. But the menu always had a balsamic tomato soup with goat cheese. Burnell’s closed last March, and I’ve been missing his perfect tomato soup ever since.

You know how there are foods you remember, and then you go back and have them again and you’re like “aww, bummer, man,” because it just doesn’t live up to the memory? I was really worried that was going to happen here, since I was just sort of trying to recreate a taste I hadn’t had in a year with no real direction. But this, I must say, is a darn good approximation. Rich and acidic, chunky and meaty (and vegetarian)—Oh, tomato soup. I’ve missed you so long. 

I used grape tomatoes because it’s February and tomatoes are genuinely and rightfully terrible right now, but you could follow the same method with whatever tomatoes you like. And with the goat cheese mixed right in, you don’t even feel the need for a grouchy sandwich on the side. Just get some good bread (Blue Oven hubcap for us today) and go to town. And by “town” I mean a place where all you think about is the next bite.

All photos by Logan "Brownie" Lautzenheiser and his sweet new lens. Thanks, bud!

Balsamic Tomato Soup with Goat Cheese

Serves two, generously, and ready in about an hour.

GET THIS STUFF

2 pints of grape tomatoes, cut in half

6 cloves of garlic, peeled

1/8 cup plus 2 tablespoons olive oil

1/8 cup balsamic vinegar

Salt, freshly ground black pepper, crushed red pepper flakes, sugar

½ cup diced onion

1 cup fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped and loosely packed

12 oz. water

Some soft goat cheese

A bit more balsamic vinegar

A bit more basil chiffonade

DO THIS WITH IT

Heat oven to 500 F.

Toss your cut tomatoes in an oven-safe dish with the garlic, 1/8 cup of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, a few good pinches of salt and pepper, a pinch of red pepper flakes and a pinch of sugar. Roast in the oven for about 45 minutes (you can do less time, but you're just robbing yourself of extra little bits of caramelization).

When your tomatoes have about 10 minutes left, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in your soup pot over medium-low heat, and add the onion with a pinch of salt. Cook them for about 10 minutes, until soft and translucent but not browning. 

Add basil and turn heat up to medium, stir and cook for a minute.

Take the dish out of the oven and scrape everything directly into your soup pot, and add about 12 oz. of water. Simmer for 10 or 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, put a few tablespoons of balsamic vinegar in a little pan and turn the heat up high to reduce it by about half. 

Turn the burner off on your soup, and use an immersion blender to blend about half of it smooth, leaving it chunky (or however you like it, I suppose). You can also use a regular blender, carefully. Really the key here is to make sure you get the big garlic cloves blended. 

Break up a little goat cheese (just like a tablespoon) and stir it in to the soup. Split it between two bowls and top with a bit more goat cheese, basil, and a drizzle of the balsamic reduction.