Green Tomato Parmesan

Late September, the neighborhood at its most beautiful. Pilsen in early fall has this quality of fullness — the murals look different in the fall light, the taqueria is doing its warmest-smelling thing, and the last of the summer produce at the Saturday market is going at clearance prices because the vendors need to sell it. I bought a flat of tomatoes for three dollars — twenty-seven tomatoes, slightly imperfect, fully ripe. I made three different things with them. This is the correct response to twenty-seven clearance tomatoes.

The school year is in full flow. The Thanksgiving food drive is two months away and I have already started thinking about Room 108's contribution. I am also thinking about what I will bring to Steve and Patty's for Thanksgiving. Ryan will be there. I told him that and he said "Are you sure?" I said yes, my mother asked specifically. He said "What do I bring?" I said: show up, eat the food, be yourself. He said "What about a bottle of wine?" I said Steve drinks beer but yes, bring wine for Patty. He said "Done." He is going to be fine. I already know he is going to be fine.

Made tomato jam with some of the twenty-seven tomatoes — sugar and red wine vinegar and ginger and cumin and a bay leaf, cooked down for forty-five minutes into a thick sweet-savory spread. On toast with sharp cheddar. On crackers. On anything. Under a dollar fifty for two small jars. I gave one to Claudia. She tasted it and said "Interesting." From Claudia, "interesting" means she is going to think about it. She texted me two days later: "The tomato jam. Good on eggs." She was right. Everything is good on eggs.

Wrote a chapter this week — a real chapter, four thousand words, about Babcia Rose's kitchen and the notebook and the recipe book left in Poland. I sent it to Kristin. She called the next day and said "This is the book." Not "this is a good chapter." This is the book. She said "Keep writing." I am going to keep writing. I can feel the whole shape of it now, which means I need to move fast — the shape only stays clear for a limited time before it starts to blur at the edges, and I need to get it all down while I can still see it.

The tomato jam used up a good portion of my twenty-seven, but I still had tomatoes left—some of them firm and just barely turning, exactly the kind that don’t want to be cooked down into jam but do want to be breaded and fried and buried in marinara and cheese. The shape of the week felt so right—the writing, the chapter Kristin loved, the easy back-and-forth with Ryan about Thanksgiving—that I wanted dinner to feel equally purposeful. Green Tomato Parmesan is exactly that kind of meal: nothing wasted, nothing fussy, just a good thing made from what you have.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

3 large green (or firm, barely-ripe) tomatoes, sliced 1/4-inch thick
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 eggs, beaten
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup Italian-seasoned breadcrumbs
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 1/2 cups marinara sauce
1 cup shredded mozzarella cheese
Fresh basil leaves, for serving (optional)

Instructions

Prep the tomatoes. Season tomato slices on both sides with salt and pepper. Let them sit on a paper towel for 5 minutes to draw out some moisture, then pat dry.
Set up the breading station. Place flour in one shallow bowl, beaten eggs whisked with water in a second, and breadcrumbs combined with 2 tablespoons of the Parmesan in a third.
Bread the slices. Dredge each tomato slice in flour, shaking off the excess, then dip in the egg mixture, then press firmly into the breadcrumb mixture to coat both sides. Set on a clean plate.
Pan-fry until golden. Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large oven-safe skillet over medium-high heat. Working in batches, cook tomato slices 2–3 minutes per side until deep golden and crisp, adding remaining oil as needed. Transfer finished slices to a paper towel-lined plate.
Assemble in the skillet. Preheat oven to 400°F. Spread 3/4 cup marinara in the bottom of the skillet (or a 9x13-inch baking dish). Arrange the fried tomato slices in a single layer over the sauce. Spoon the remaining marinara over each slice. Scatter mozzarella and the remaining Parmesan evenly over the top.
Bake until bubbly. Bake for 15–18 minutes until the cheese is melted, spotted golden, and the sauce is bubbling at the edges. Let rest 5 minutes before serving. Top with fresh basil if using.

Nutrition (per serving)

Green Tomato Parmesan — When the Last of the Season Deserves a Real Sendoff