This just in (well, actually, last weekend but I'm just getting around to it now), from my brother-in-law, Stefano's, wife Jillian:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. With a small, sharp knife, cut the stems out of a bunch of plum tomatoes. Slice them in half and put them in a big baking pan, skin side up. Drizzle them with olive oil. I sprinkled them with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper (Jillian didn't, still good though). Roast the tomatoes in the oven for 40 minutes. Then turn the oven up to 400 degrees and roast them for another 20 minutes. Turn the oven off and leave them in for another 10 minutes.
That's it! Now toss these beauties with the pasta of your choice, and feast like a Medici. The tomatoes caramelize and sweeten up. Add more oil and salt, if you want, and/or a little fresh basil. I scooped the seeds out of the tomato halves because I still have four gaping holes where that oobahtz of an oral surgeon took out my wisdom teeth a few weeks ago. I continue to suffer.
Seriously, at what point were they going to tell me that I wouldn't be able to eat normal food for six months? I would have made myself more mentally ready for this, like by entering a convent where they make cookies. I can't eat stuff with seeds or nuts. Nothing crunchy. Nothing that would get stuck in the holes where my teeth used to be. Well, that covers just about everything, Dr. Jidrool, what do you eat?
There should be special procedures, designed only for Italians. I see this as the future of health care, where you're treated according to your ethnicity. Maybe they'd learn something. There's a reason why the old Italians lived to be 90 or more, and the only things they ate were toast and chocolate, washed down with wine and coffee.
Discrimination in health care. My neighbor Ruthie just had a brush with that. She's not Italian, but often eats like a paisan.
"So I go for my check-up the other day. And the doctor is worried about my drinking."
"Your drinking?" I can think of a few reasons to worry about Ruthie, but drinking isn't one of them.
"Yeah, when I told her how many drinks I usually had a week. I even low-balled it."
"What did you tell her?"
"Seven to 14. I left out my 'date-night' cocktails."
"Seven to 14? That's too many? What if you were Italian and had wine with dinner every night?"
You see my point? American doctors, the silly bastards, would have the whole island of Sicily in rehab.
Back to the tomatoes. You could also just eat them as is, as a side dish, or put them on little toasted slices of Italian bread and make bruschetta.
BTW, that word is pronounced broo-SKET. Here's a few more:
ree-GOAT = ricotta
mahr-i-NAHR = marinara
Now you sound like you know what you're talking about.