Grab your salt shaker and get ready for great eating; the early season heirloom tomatoes are arriving in the markets. These brilliantly colored, lumpy-bumpy jewels of summer deliver old-time tomato flavor that puts supermarket hybrids to shame. Heirlooms are amazing eaten out-of-hand with a sprinkling of salt, or showcased in brilliantly colored summer salads, favorite sandwiches and sumptuous savory tarts.

Unlike hybrid tomatoes, heirlooms are grown from open-pollinated seeds carefully collected and passed through generations of growers and their friends. Plants maintain the same taste, color, size, shape and texture characteristics year after year. Hybrids, by contrast, produce few usable seeds. When planted, these hybrid seeds yield inferior plants the first year, and deteriorate further thereafter.

You’ll notice that heirlooms are more expensive than standard supermarket tomatoes and may wonder why. After all, four bucks a pound—and as much as six or more at high-end stores during the season—may seem excessive when one large tomato can weigh a whole pound.

It all centers on profitability. Bred for production and sales, hybrids have thicker skins for best shipping and a longer shelf life. Heirlooms have thinner skins, do not ship well, and must be eaten within several days of harvesting. Their plants produce smaller crops and are prone to diseases like blossom-end rot and early blight. All of this makes heirlooms inherently less profitable, forcing growers to set prices higher to sustain a business. On the positive side, when you find perfectly ripe heirlooms at your local market, they’re likely to be fresh and great-tasting; well worth the extra cost over mediocre supermarket tomatoes.

Currently our cooler Bay Area temperatures and frequent cloud cover has delayed the local heirloom crop, forcing dealers to buy from growers in southern California and Mexico. Our early crops are due soon, to be followed by more varieties that will peak in September.

When shopping for ripe, juicy heirlooms, look for ones with lots of give. Buy only what you can eat in a day or two as they spoil more quickly than their mass-market cousins. And never, never, ever store heirlooms in the refrigerator—they won’t turn into gremlins after midnight, but will lose significant flavor and texture when stored at temperatures under 50 degrees.

Now for the good part—my favorite heirloom recipes. Happy eating!

Heirloom Tomato-
Parmesan Tart
Glorious colors and flavor make this savory summertime tart a showstopper at any meal. Let your imagination run wild and use a rainbow of different varieties to turn ordinary into an edible masterpiece.

Tomato-Basil Bruschetta
The simple eating pleasures of summer—garlic, multi-colored chopped heirlooms, fresh basil and a drizzle of balsamic vinegar… all together on a toasted piece of bread headed right to your mouth.

Insalata Caprese
It’s hard to improve this Italian classic that combines tomatoes with thick slices of best-quality mozzarella cheese and fresh basil—unless you make it with heirlooms. Oh my, sooo good.

BLT Sandwich
Who needs a recipe for this classic? I slather good bread with mayonnaise and a sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper then stack it with thick-cut bacon, colorful sliced heirlooms, whole basil leaves and lettuce. It’s over-the-top delicious.

Tuna Stuffed
Heirloom Tomatoes
There are days when only tuna fish salad sounds good. I love to hollow out and stuff heirlooms with my all-time favorite tuna and then dig in.

Heirloom Tomato
Salad with Basil
Wow your family and friends with this spectacular summer salad. It’s simple yet sophisticated and hard to resist when paired with grilled meats.

Get printable copies of these heirloom tomato recipes for your convenience:

Heirloom Tomato-Parmesan Tart

Tomato-Basil Bruschetta

Insalata Caprese

Tuna Stuffed Heirloom Tomatoes

Heirloom Tomato Salad with Basil

Imagine a sari-clad north Indian village woman making fresh chapattis for her family over an open fire, as generations have done before her. Now fast forward to a crowded, urban center like New Delhi where cooks everywhere prepare this protein-rich unleavened bread daily. At Leela Manilal’s table, her large boisterous family enjoys a seemingly endless supply of just-off-the-fire chapattis served by Niranjan, the family cook, and his wife, Kamla. Simple perfection—and something I wanted to learn.

In the beginning, the appeal of these healthy, beautifully round and thin chapattis was lost on me. Truthfully, I could take or leave them until I discovered that when torn into smaller pieces they make great shovels for scooping up my favorite curries, dals, and rice with bits of stuffed red chili pepper pickle.

At breakfast one morning, Leela made my day by announcing that Kamla—our resident master chapatti maker—would teach me how to make the breads later that afternoon. “Barbara, you’ll be using my copper pan that once belonged to my mother-in-law—it’s over 100-years old. She gave it to me years ago and it has supplied us all with thousands of chapattis over the years. Now you’ll be part of its history.” I was humbled and couldn’t wait to begin.

In the kitchen, Kamla collected our ingredients—a tub of atta flour (“atta” is the Hindi word for high protein durum wheat, similar to that used in pasta), salt and a pitcher of water that she placed on the marble countertop. Speaking Hindi, she motioned me to scoop about two cups of atta and some salt into the pan. Kamla poured just enough water into the mixture to start forming the dough. I thought it a bit dry, so she sprinkled some more water over the top and showed me how to work the mixture effectively using just one hand. Once I achieved a “kneadable” consistency, Kamla dusted a bit of flour onto the counter and had me knead the dough for several minutes until smooth. She placed it back in the pan and covered it to rest for 20–30 minutes.

Throughout my lesson, Leela and various family members came to see how I was doing. Leela told me said that resting the dough is a critical step. “If you skip it you’ll produce tough and inferior chapattis, and that’s no good.” I’d made it through dough making 101; soon it was time to get rolling—literally.

Kamla broke off two pieces of dough approximately 1 ¾ inches in diameter and handed me one. She rolled her dough between the palms of her hands until smooth, then flattened it slightly into a perfect fat circle. Finally, she dipped the dough in atta to prevent stickiness. I followed her lead and was soon ready for the next step—rolling the dough flat.

 I sprinkled some atta on the counter and dusted the rolling pin. Kamla wielded the pin first, and within seconds she had a perfectly round, flat chapatti. I was impressed.

Now it was my turn, so I gripped the rolling pin with eager fingers. “Nay, nay.” (“No, no” in Hindi.) She adjusted my fingers outward and showed how I must keep my hands loose, letting my fingertips do all of the work rolling and turning. This is not as easy as it looks, and my chapatti looked more like the Indian sub-continent that the perfect circle I desired.

Leela came up behind me and took a look at what was shaping up to be a thickish, glandular-looking creation. “Pretty good for a first attempt.” Then she laughed wickedly and said, “It’s a good thing that you’re not a new bride, because Indian mother-in-laws have been known to give them a good smack when they lacked good chapatti-making skills.” Very funny. “Keep it up and you’ll have it down in no time,” she chuckled.

It was time to cook my imperfect chapatti so Kamla quickly heated an Indian tava (a slightly concave griddle used to make flatbreads) over medium heat. I place the chapatti in the center and cooked it briefly, then flipped it to finish.

As I pulled it off the tava, Kamla handed me a clean kitchen towel to press and seal the edges, ensuring that the bread would puff properly in the next stage of cooking.

My favorite part of the chapatti-making process occurs when you place the bread on an open flame and it fills with steam and puffs like a balloon. I was so pleased watching mine that it started to burn. Sacre bleu! (Or whatever they say in Hindi.) I didn’t come this far to have it catch fire, so I turned it quickly and tried to keep it moving in a circular motion as Kamla had demonstrated. When finished, it was a chapatti only its maker could be proud of. But I kept at it and produced five or six more that improved with each attempt. Thank goodness!

I’m someone who’s always trying new things, so I know that developing a new skill, no matter how simple, takes practice, practice, practice. My first chapatti may have been ugly but my current ones are quite good. Maybe even good enough for an Indian mother-in-law.

Print a copy my Chapatti recipe or illustrated, step-by-step How To Make Chapattis for your convenience.

If I say, “curry” what comes to mind first? Chicken. Maybe lamb or a spicy fish dish. But how about cheese? Huh? Vegetarians and carnivores take note; Indian paneer—a homemade farmer’s cheese, is the key ingredient in a variety of beautifully spiced curry dishes that are once exotic, nutritious and inexpensive to make at home.

I recently took up temporary residence at Leela Manilal’s home in New Delhi, India, eager to cook, learn, eat and write all I could about Indian cuisine. Almost as soon as I arrived, we sat down in her large drawing room with tall cool glasses of nimbu pani (sweet lime water with black salt) and went over a list of dishes to be added to her International Home Chef, India section on Beyond Wonderful. As we talked, I confessed the need to master the simple art of making paneer. While many had told me how easy it is, I’d never gotten consistent results. Sometimes my cheese was firm and perfect; other times it was tasty, but crumbly like cottage cheese. Not pretty. It made my favorite matter paneer (a fragrant spice-infused tomato-based gravy with green peas) look messy and unappealing. I yearned to produce reliably firm, perfect paneer every time.

Leela laughed and said, “Barbara, it really is easy; we’ll go through each step and as a reward I’ll teach you how to make my palak (spinach) paneer, too.” I was thrilled because Leela makes the best version of this dish that I’ve tasted. Her creamy, lightly spiced spinach it the perfect compliment to the paneer. And after all our hard work in the kitchen, we’d get to eat it for lunch.

At 85, Leela depends on Niranjan, the family cook, to help her prep ingredients when cooking, and to prepare the daily family meals. She asked him to make a fresh batch of this un-aged, unsalted cheese and let him know that we would both be in the kitchen to observe his process.

Everything was ready when we arrived and Niranjan got to work. Now, you must realize that he speaks Hindi with a few words of English and my Hindi is limited, so Leela became the translator. In between there was lots of gesturing.

 Niranjan poured about eight cups of very creamy milk (no skim or low-fat allowed—the creamier the better) into a heavy-bottomed pan and brought it to a rolling boil. He curdled the milk with acid (in this instance a tablespoon of vinegar), lowered the heat so that it wouldn’t boil over and stirred as the curds separated from the pale greenish whey (liquid).

Leela watched and said, “I prefer to use dahi (Hindi for yogurt) for the acid, but you can also use lemon or lime juice to curdle the milk.” I told her I often used lime juice, and vinegar on occasion. “Well, there is your problem, Barbara. Lime juice produces a crumbly consistency that we use is a specific paneer dish. Vinegar makes it firmer.” Voila, the mystery of the firm cheese was solved with vinegar. Who knew? It was a delicious end to years of frustration.

As we chatted, Niranjan poured the curds into a waiting mesh strainer set over a heat-resistant bowl to let the excess moisture drain away. About 30 minutes later he laid the paneer on a large piece of thin cloth (cheesecloth works well), formed and wrapped it before placing it in the refrigerator with a heavy weight on top. Niranjan chose a bowl of whey, but you could use a heavy pot. Leela watched him work and stressed the importance of the weight, and patience, as this step presses out any remaining excess moisture to produce a firmer cheese. “Let it sit overnight before cutting it into cubes and lightly frying them for your recipe,” she advised.

Betty Manilal, Leela’s daughter-in-law, came into the kitchen and suggested that we go to the local open-air produce market for the spinach in the early evening when it’s cooler outside. Indian markets are always an adventure, especially for Westerners. Filled with scores of individual vendors all hawking their just-harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables—some familiar, some not—this is not your familiar US farmer’s market. One thing you can depend on is that vendors triple their prices when they see a Westerner, especially an American. Betty is a tough bargainer and takes none of their shenanigans, often walking off and not coming back until she gets a fair local price.

As we moved through the crowds, I realized that I’d already become accustomed to maneuvering around the large lumbering cows and buffalos and the constantly honking cars. Bicycles are an entirely different matter, as they whip by ringing their jingly bells a hair’s breadth before impact. I’ve learned to jump back quickly and control my mouth. Even though they don’t speak English, the bicyclists know when someone is abusing them verbally, and then we have completely different cultural problems. I was relieved when an old woman agreed to sell us two kilos of spinach at a good price.

Close to lunch time the next day, Leela and I were back in the very hot, busy kitchen. Her legs were bothering her so Niranjan helped by lightly frying the paneer and prepping the spinach and other vegetables. Leela checked his beautifully minced onions, crushed garlic, tomato puree and spices and got ready to begin.

Leela approaches the stove like a maestro stepping up to the podium. She poured and heated some vegetable oil in a heavy-bottomed pan and threw in some cumin seeds, infusing the oil with their earthy scent and taste. Soon the onions and garlic were sizzling and perfuming the air. She sprinkled the coriander, chile and turmeric over the mixture then gave it a good stir before adding the tomato puree. As the acolyte, I was taking notes on my well-used yellow tablet and hoping that no one would hear my growling stomach. As Leela completed the dish with pureed spinach and the lightly fried paneer, we each reached eagerly for a spoon. Hmmmm, just a little salt and it’s perfect.

Heading to lunch with the family, I felt good knowing that I could now make paneer in my sleep and had even cracked the code of Leela’s heavenly spinach dish. Sure proof that no matter how well or how long you’ve cooked, there’s something new and delicious to learn—and to share with others.

Get a printable copy of Palak Paneer and How To Make Paneer for your convenience.

 Aloo Tikki

 Pakoras

Hello from New Delhi, India where I’m staying with my great friend, Leela Manilal and her large extended family. Leela is a retired journalist and the Beyond Wonderful International Home Chef, India. We’ve spent the last 25 years cooking together; developing and sharing Indian recipes, all while giggling, chatting and generally solving the problems of the world.

I’ve spent a lot of time in India—this is my tenth trip—and made lots of friends that have become family. On this visit, Leela and I are putting the finishing touches on a new batch of sumptuous recipes soon to debut at Beyond Wonderful.

But first, let’s take a detour with the kids in the house. Everyone here knows that I always arrive with Mary Poppins-style suitcases, bringing something magical and unexpected. Since Easter is near—and Indians do not celebrate the holiday as we do in America—colored, decorated eggs were an obvious choice. None of the kids had a clue what they were, but all were open to spending the afternoon on the veranda giving them a try.

I walked to the local market and went shoulder-to-shoulder with a large, lumbering cow while buying three dozen eggs. Back at the house, the cook hard-boiled and cooled them for later. Leela wondered if we needed so many eggs, but I find that a large supply is essential once the creative juices begin flowing and the kids crank out multiple masterpieces.

I usually set up kid events in advance, but this time I wanted Annamae, Dipika, Saana and Kibir to experience filling the colorful egg cups with water, dropping in the dye tablets with vinegar and watching them fizz. On a whim, I had purchased a swirl egg coloring kit that used oil and water to produce multiple colors and effects. It proved to be the most popular as the kids created amazing designs.

From the moment we got started, one would never have guessed that these kids were new to Easter eggs. Saana loves purple and guided her eggs there first. Kabir flat-out loved green and started all his eggs in that cup. As he worked, he regularly wiped his wet green hands on his shirt and laughed that no one could tell the difference.

Silly me, I quipped that Peter Rabbit would be proud of the kids’ creations—“Peter who?”  Whoops! The Easter bunny is a whole other cultural experience best saved for another time. After all, how do you keep a straight face when telling children in another culture that there is a giant rabbit bringing millions of Easter baskets filled with chocolate, sweets and presents to children all over America?

As the kids put the finishing touches on their eggs, I covered a large tray with vibrant green bunny grass and encouraged them to display their finished masterpieces. Like children everywhere they took great pride in their accomplishments and began counting to see who had created the most eggs.

Now what do we do with them? I suggested egg salad sandwiches or egg curry since we were in India, but was quickly shot down. It turns out the kids were much more interested showing off their colorful eggs than in eating them. I, on the other hand, collected the eight plainly colored, cracked eggs that they’d left behind and headed to the kitchen.

Happy Easter from the veranda in New Delhi, where I’m happily residing with my laptop and a very large bowl of egg salad—all to myself!

Get printable copies of this recipe and illustrated, step-by-step how to:

Easter Egg Salad Sandwich

How To Hardcook Eggs