tomato and basil sitting in a tree

It's fairly wonderful when you arrive in Australia a week or so after the last of the tomatoes have been picked. For a good six months now i've been facinating about bruschetta. Making it. Eating it. I couldn't bear to make something as delightfully simple as bruschetta and use tomatoes that have been shipped halfway across the world, or even produced in a hot house as near as California. I WANT TOMATOES. TOMATOES. NOT SHAPES THAT LOOK LIKE TOMATOES.

Something else that's very smashing is that my mum has enough basil in her garden to harvest for a pesto festival held somewhere wonderful for a good week. I can see it there now. Just life giving life to all that I breath in.

Another beautiful component of bruschetta is that you can use whatever bread you like. Of course a nice french loaf or turkish bread is the most fun. Little rounded rectangles of soft crunch. This time I used store bought turkish loaf. I was told that if I wanted the real deal that I needed to get to the bakery earlier on in the day. O well. This was mighty fine. A little drizzle of extra virgin drizzled over the top after being toasted under the grill. Mmmmmm mama. So much garlic.

Other than having the garlicy, basily, oil base left to add more tomato to the next day, there is the joy of eating this with my dad. My dad is a meat and three veg kinda fellow, and seeing him involved in mmmmmm's and drizzles of oil running down his face was pure delight.

It's just too splendid when you are able to create simple food with an explosive taste for people that need to close thier eyes for one last moment of bliss, than, it's gone, only until the next bite.