For every person who has ever peeled a tomato, there are millions who would never dream of such a thing.
I learned how to peel tomatoes at, you guessed it, The French Laundry.
Sweet 100's. Sungolds. Tomato-ettes.
Tomato skin is like pantyhose. Sheer, almost transparent, and yet truly in the way of what you really want. You want to run your hand up someone's leg. But now your hand is touching some form of plastic turned mock clothing. As the person wearing pantyhose you feel locked in, constricted. Yet proper, ladylike. Even in the bottom of summer? Really? Can you say, honestly, that wearing pantyhose is worth it?
People tell me all the time that peeling a tomato isn't worth it. "Look at that tiny fucking tomato! You're telling me I have to peel it?! Are you out of your mind?!"
And than I peel one for them. Not as erotically charged as peeling someone a grape, but close.
"Put that in your mouth. Look me in the eye. Now tell me it's not worth it."
Recipe for peeling tiny tomatoes:
With a razor sharp knife, make a teency tiny x at the bottom (not the stem end) of your little orbs.
Bring cold water to boil.
Put together a freezing cold ice water bath. More water than ice.
Using a basket strainer or slotted spoon, lower X'ed tomatoes, a very few at a time, into boiling water and count to 5.
Lift tomato out and place it in ice water.
Be very careful. Think of yourself as a heli-ambulance pilot.
Peel away from the x.
Voila! Tiny tomato, peeled.
If you must store them-- make sure they are not sitting atop one another. Single layer only for these beauties. Mustn't muss them once you've worked so hard.
Peeled tomatoes should be savored right away. Store no longer than 8 hours refrigerated.
Favorite quote from the dinner I did the other night with Leif:
Cook: "You peeled these tomatoes?! You really are a pastry chef."