Easy Fried Green Tomatoes

Clay called again. Sunday night. Ten minutes this time — they get more phone time as Basic progresses and the drill sergeants decide you've earned the right to be human again. He sounded different. Harder. Not mean — harder, the way metal gets harder when you hammer it. He said the physical part is fine — "I'm in better shape than most guys, Dad. Football helped." He said the mental part is harder. "They strip everything away. Your name, your habits, your comfort. They strip it down to nothing and then they build you back up as a soldier." He paused. "I understand why they do it."

He asked what I was cooking. I told him I'd made fried corn and biscuits for dinner. He was quiet for a second and said "Save me some for when I come home." I said "I will." I won't. It'll be gone by then. But I'll make fresh. I'll make it the morning he walks through the door, and it'll be hot and ready and the kitchen will smell like home and he'll eat it and know that nothing here has changed, that the cast iron is seasoned and the cornmeal is in the pantry and his father is at the stove where his father has always been.

This week: tomato pie. August tomatoes are coming in and tomato pie is one of those Southern dishes that sounds wrong and tastes right. A pie crust, filled with sliced tomatoes, layered with shredded cheese, a little basil, and a topping of mayonnaise mixed with more cheese. Baked until bubbly. It sounds like a mistake. It tastes like August.

Pie crust on the bottom. Layer of thick-sliced garden tomatoes, salted and drained (drain them — this is important, because tomatoes are wet and a wet pie is a sad pie). Layer of shredded sharp cheddar and mozzarella. Fresh basil leaves. More tomatoes. More cheese. Top with a mixture of Duke's mayo, more cheese, salt, pepper. Bake at 350 for thirty-five minutes. The top turns golden and bubbly and the tomatoes soften and meld with the cheese and the basil perfumes everything and you eat it warm and think: this is what summer would taste like if summer were a food. Which it is. This food.

Connie loved it. She ate two slices and said "Why haven't you made this before?" I said "I just thought of it." She said "Think of it again next week." I will. The garden is producing. The tomatoes are abundant. The kitchen is quieter than it's been in eighteen years but the food is still here, still good, still the thing that holds the day together when the day is trying to fly apart.

The tomato pie took care of the ripe ones, but the garden doesn’t wait — there are always more coming in green before you’re ready for them, and that’s exactly what fried green tomatoes are for. While Connie was still talking about making the pie again next week, I was already eyeing the unripe ones on the vine, knowing they’d be just as good in a cast iron skillet with a cornmeal crust as anything else this time of year. This is the other August tomato dish — simpler, faster, and the kind of thing Clay used to grab off the plate before they even hit the table.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

3 medium green tomatoes, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1 teaspoon salt, divided
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 large eggs
2 tablespoons whole milk
1/2 cup fine yellow cornmeal
1/4 cup plain dry breadcrumbs
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon paprika
Vegetable oil or bacon drippings, for frying (about 1/4 inch deep in skillet)

Instructions

Salt the tomatoes. Lay tomato slices in a single layer on a paper towel-lined baking sheet. Sprinkle both sides with 1/2 teaspoon salt and let sit 10 minutes to draw out moisture. Pat dry with additional paper towels.
Set up your dredging stations. Place flour in a shallow dish. In a second shallow dish, whisk together eggs and milk until combined. In a third dish, mix cornmeal, breadcrumbs, remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, black pepper, garlic powder, and paprika.
Dredge the slices. Working one at a time, coat each tomato slice in flour and shake off the excess. Dip into the egg mixture, letting any excess drip off. Press firmly into the cornmeal mixture, coating both sides evenly.
Heat the oil. Pour enough oil or bacon drippings into a large cast iron skillet to reach about 1/4 inch up the sides. Heat over medium-high heat until shimmering and a pinch of cornmeal sizzles on contact, about 2—3 minutes.
Fry in batches. Add tomato slices in a single layer without crowding. Fry until the bottom is deep golden brown, 3—4 minutes. Flip carefully and fry the second side another 3—4 minutes. Transfer to a paper towel-lined plate and repeat with remaining slices, adjusting heat as needed.
Serve immediately. Fried green tomatoes are best eaten hot from the skillet. Serve with a sprinkle of extra salt and, if you like, a side of remoulade or comeback sauce.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Fried Green Tomatoes — When the Garden Gives You More Than You Can Pie