Dress the part with heirloom tomatoes

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Sometimes, perfect heirloom tomatoes need a little something, like creamy buttermilk dressing. (Courtesy Heather Wetzel)

Updated: November 16, 2011 1:50AM

There was a moment in time, not too long ago actually, where I could not for the life of me get the thought of a juicy, gnarly shapen, heirloom tomato out of my head.

I imagined them, bursting with seeds and almost tie-dyed in their outward appearance, in a number of iterations, but at the time the markets were instead selling peaches and strawberries and maybe some squash by the bushels. A couple of tomatoes sat sadly on the corner of one table, and all the while I thought I'd be none the wiser if I just nudged them onto the ground and walked away, because I was damn tired of being taunted.

I don't like being taunted.

Let there be no doubt - peaches, strawberries and squash are lovely in their own right, but a tomato is what I craved. And then I missed a couple of Sundays at the market, probably the same weekends the troves of 'maters made their awaited debut.

All the while, I resorted to the canned version and made a tomato-semolina soup (OK, but not earth-shattering) and a roasted tomato and red pepper soup (totally earth-shattering). Then, I got decent fresh tomatoes and made a panzanella salad with quinoa, but the quinoa was undercooked, which I've never done before (overcooking quinoa is my strong suit), so this merits a remake.

To make a long story that shouldn't be long short, I finally got what I'd really been craving and I scored those tomatoes. Then I had my way with them.

Now, some of you may say something like this when you realize I slathered them in buttermilk dressing: "Wow. That's a lot of dressing there, girlfriend. You know, you really don't neeeeeed to put anything on a perfect heirloom tomato. It takes away from the flavor of the tomato, which should be left as is."

This is just being way too judgmental. You should get with the program.

Others may say something like this: "Damn. That's a good lookin' salad. Not the first thing that came to mind for fresh tomatoes, but it's worth a try." I'd say you're on to something, and I like that you're open-minded.

And then there's the rest of you, who'd say: "By golly I love me some buttermilk dressing, and I'm 'bout to tear this salad DOWN! Then, I'm going to drink the rest of the dressing and rub it all over my body." That's what I'm talking about. Full of enthusiasm! I heart you.

OK, so maybe you won't bathe in it, but you'll sure as hell want to. Of course, only if your thoughts are in line with the last group, and maybe the second. I'm totally in the last group, but generally I don't like a lot of stuff on my 'maters either, so I sorta blend into the second. And to be truthful, I normally don't bathe in my food, but I made an exception.

What can I say? In-season, heirloom tomatoes have that effect on me.

Heather Wetzel, a former Chicagoan now living in California, writes the blog Chik n' Pastry (chiknpastry.com), where this was posted.