Circumlocution: it’s one of the time-honored tactics of the language learner. 

Let me explain. I speak enough French that in my day-to-day life, I can communicate freely enough. I can even hold my own at a dinner party. (Or at least, my dining companions are willing to put up with my mistakes.) 

Yet sometimes, babbling along, I am still stopped dead in my tracks by a word I don’t know. In these cases, I use circumlocution. For example, I did not know how to say “stem,” like the stem of a tomato, and so found myself saying “the green thing that attaches one tomato to the rest of the tomatoes.” (Lovely, right? But it got the point across. Turns out the word is tige.)

 

The other day, with cherry tomatoes piling up at the markets, I set out to make David Lebovitz’s cherry tomato crostini with homemade herbed cheese. He has you strain yogurt through a cheesecloth to make the cheese. But when I got to the store, the was no cheesecloth in sight. And I didn’t know the word for cheesecloth.

So, I found myself explaining cheesecloth like so: “it is a fabric that helps remove the water from the solids when you are making cheese.” The store attendant looked at me blankly. “In English, it translates as ‘fromage-tissu,'” I offered. He gave me the classic Gallic shrug.

 

My dinner plans seemed to have been foiled. But then I realized: what am I thinking?! I am in a region, in a country, that produces gobs of the most marvelous, tangy, wonderful goats cheese. Why am I insisting on making my own?

And so, these are the results. The spirit of David Lebovitz’s recipe is intact. The tomatoes roast into sweet oblivion, becoming a jammy, deep, wonderful compote, that gets even better the longer it sits. And they’re still heaped onto a  tangy cheese-slathered toast.

 

But I would encourage you to adapt, as I did. I had mine on thick slices of crusty bread, lightly toasted. But you could do yours on smaller baguette slices, dry toasted in the oven until truly crispy. And though I served mine with just a green salad, you could equally well put a soft-boiled or poached egg on this. . . and maybe even serve with some slices of avocado.

 

In short: you don’t need to be stuck on the word for cheesecloth (it’s étamine, by the way) to adapt this recipe to your taste. It’s your kitchen. Dive in!

[Not summer in your part of the world? No worries! Though this recipe is cheaper to make in the summer, when tomatoes are a dime a dozen, the fact that you roast them so thoroughly means that this would even turn out well with grocery store cherry tomatoes in the winter. (Alternatively, in things on toast, winter edition: squash toasts with goats cheese and caramelized onions.)]

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Goat cheese toasts with cherry tomato compote

Inspired by David Lebovitz’s Cherry Tomato Crostini with Homemade Herbed Goat Cheese in My Paris Kitchen
Serves: 3-4 meal-size portions (2 biggish toasts per person, as shown in photos above)

Ingredients

3 pounds (1.35kg) grape or cherry tomatoes, stems removed (if your tomatoes are much bigger than mine, pictured, halve them)
3-4 tablespoons olive oil
3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
Handful of whatever sturdy herbs you have around (choose from thyme, oregano, sage, or rosemary, or a mix)
Sea salt
8-10 ounces (226-283g) goat cheese
Small bunch of chives, thinly sliced
One baguette or one bigger, country-style crusty loaf

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 350F (176C).

Combine the cherry tomatoes, olive oil, sliced garlic and herbs in a baking dish or pan that will hold them all in a snug single layer.

Season with salt, mix well, and spread them out in a single layer.

Roast the tomatoes in the oven for about 35-45 minutes, stirring once or perhaps twice during baking, until they’re wilted and their juices are starting to concentrate — and perhaps brown a bit — in the bottom of the baking dish or pan.

While they are baking, slice and toast your bread.

If you’re going to serve just a couple of thick toasts like I did, you can slice only however many slices you need that evening and gently toast in the oven or in a toaster.

Or, if you want to dry toast your bread, you can slice it all now. Make the slices a little thinner than mine were (maybe 1/2″-thick slices), then place on the oven rack while the tomatoes are baking. Toast until golden–maybe about 15-20 minutes. Once cool, these dry toasts can be stored in a plastic bag at room temperature for a 4-5 days.

Slather the toasts with goat cheese. Sprinkle some chives on top. Heap a couple spoonfuls of roasted tomatoes on top of that. Serve!

Notes

If you’re planning for leftovers, the tomatoes will keep in the fridge for 2-3 days. They get even better after they’ve sit for a day.

If you are not making dry toasts, you can slice the loaf to your preferred thickness, store in a sturdy plastic bag in the freezer, and then simply toast the breads as needed.

Slice the chives as you need them, for each meal.

Assemble the toasts + goat cheese + chives + tomatoes only when you are just about ready to eat, to prevent them from getting soggy.