Danny can't keep us down

Tropical storm Danny dropped a considerable amount of water over Boston yesterday, a steady rain that started well before I awoke and continued through the evening. That didn't stop my very motivated friend Katie from going to the Union Square Farmer's Market and bringing me some amazing, huge heirloom tomatoes.


What to do with these beauties on a rainy afternoon? Make grilled cheese, of course! I had a loaf of Clear Flour Bakery's Seven Grain in my fridge from earlier in the week, so we braved the deluge and walked around the corner to the South End Formaggio in search of cheeses. The Formaggio is one of my favorite places in the city, not to be outdone by its older sister, the Formaggio Kitchen in Cambridge. The size of the South End location just makes it much more intimate.

One of the very nice guys at the Formaggio set us up with a trio of cheeses to complete our sandwiches: a Pétit Comté from Jura, France, a Pomerol Meule Duroux from Auvergne, France, and a Provolone for its melty goodness. We grabbed a box of local greens with the SEF's phenomenal housemade balsamic vinaigrette and a few rosemary salted caramels and, after sampling some cheeses and homemade hummus and ful medames (an Egyptian fava bean spread), we were out the door.

The cheeses were just as delicious on their own as they were combined. The provolone was as expected, mild and smooth, sliced impossibly thin. Next, the Pomerol. Another mild cheese, yet sharper than the provolone, with a smooth, almost airy texture and a flavor that sticks in the back of your mouth. My Google search yielded no results, though I did learn that Pomerol is the smallest wine-producing region in Bordeaux and "meule" translates into "wheel" -- you learn something new every day. The Comté was my personal favorite, a dry, salty cheese, denser than the rest with an almost grainy texture. It turns out that the buyers at Formaggio Kitchen have visited this farm; you can read about the cheese and watch a video here.


How was our grilled cheese? In a word: delightful. The sandwich itself had a perfect crunch, augmented by the gooeyness of the cheeses and juices from the tomato. The tomato became sweet, the tomatoeyness of it a testament to the quality of real produce grown the old fashioned way, vine-ripened, roots in soil. It struck me that we shouldn't have been blown away by the flavor of this tomato, that this is the way tomatoes are supposed to taste; our palates bored by countless supermarket varieties. Although I suppose if this makes us appreciate the wonder of the late summer tomato, it might be all for the better.


All in all, a perfect lunch for a rainy afternoon.