Ricotta & Hot Cherry Tomato Toast
Updated: Jun 13, 2021
I have a stuffed toy Kangaroo. The kangaroo has a pouch. And in that pouch, is a baby kangaroo - attached by a string so that it has freedom of movement of course. It's a high quality plush toy; soft as anything, little divots cover her arms, her stitching is impeccable (not a thread out of place), and she was endowed with a gentle smile and soft eyes. I affectionately, and originally, labelled her Kanga, and her Joey's name is Joey. Her most impressive feature is that she has a secret pouch within her pouch (I'm hoping evolution gets working on this one with the real thing). That pouch holds a scent bag - be it potpourri or something else. My sister bought me Kanga for christmas, and I will never know how to say thank you enough.
One year ago, I was dumped. Less like a valrhona chocolate soufflé, and more like a stale piece of white bread; that relationship offered nothing too exciting or substantial. But the sheer act of being blindsided was heartbreaking. I was utterly sure that man thought the sun shone out of my ass, and would kiss the ring if I prompted him to. I was shattered. I was mourning the loss of a sure thing and I was completely annihilated to know my radar was more than broken. Up until then, I had a bag of confidence; it held my unerring ability to read people, my ability to do or say anything, and a positive self image. I needed comfort. And I sought it from Friends reruns, Whittakers chocolate, excessive phone calls to friends back home, and sobbing into the shower drain. Oddly though, my 33 year old sister offered me a few nights with her lavender scented stuffed snail toy. Not one to turn down company at this point, I graciously excepted.
I hadn't slept so well in weeks; in fact I even managed to feel hungry, ravenous in fact - something I had been sorely missing. I surreptitiously wanted to take the snail home with me, but I knew she needed him too. Some months later and I unwrap all the candles, bath salts, chocolates, and warehouse clothes (that acted as standard protocol for Christmas morning), before opening a soft toy with a scent pouch, and a mythical power to provide security.
I don't give a f*** that I'm 23; there was something so overwhelming and kind about the gift. That my sister had recognised the impact of her sharing her snail with me was one thing. But her getting me my own toy was another. And if anyone was wondering what I ate the day I got my appetite back - a loaded toast covered in balsamic glaze would be the answer. Because why not make something principally perfect for your reintroduction into the landscape of hunger.
1 tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup of cherry tomato halves
Salt & Pepper
2 slices of sourdough bread
6 tablespoons of fresh ricotta
1 tablespoon of balsamic glaze
A few mint leaves
Heat up a pan with a bit of olive oil. Toss through the cherry tomato havles with a pinch of salt and cook until charred and juicy.
Grab your sourdough bread and brush on your extra virgin olive oil (to both sides).
Place the sourdough in the same pan as the tomatoes (to reduce dishes) and cook until toasted on both sides.
Load the toast up with the fresh ricotta. Pile on the tomatoes, drizzle with the balsamic glaze, and sprinkle over the mint leaves.
Easy as! Enjoy!!!