Peach Coffeecake with a Spicy Pecan Streusel

We are now in the midst of that fleeting moment when both summer and autumn produce are available at the farmers' market. This year I have particularly noticed it with the fruit harvest. Tables displaying new crop local apples are set up next to tables laden with the end of the local peaches. On Saturday, one vendor even had a sign with their peaches warning that this might be the last week. I have purchased some of the new crop apples, but I'm really not quite ready for summer to come to an end. So even though this is Labor Day weekend, the traditional end of the summer season, I have asserted my unwillingness to let go of summer by making one last peach coffee cake.

The cake part of this coffee cake is a plain sour cream cake. I call it plain because it is a very basic cake—most home bakers will have a similar one in their repertoire. Sour cream cakes are universally popular. They generally have good keeping qualities and the subtle tang of the sour cream lends itself to all kinds of flavor pairings and combinations.  Plain doesn't mean boring and I use this particular cake all the time...varying the fruit with the seasons and the streusel to match the fruit. I'm sure it will appear on my blog again—perhaps with pears, dried fruit, fresh berries...even chocolate.

Recently while working on a recipe for a peach tart I came across a slightly different method for peeling peaches. Peaches are typically peeled by dropping them in boiling water and then into ice water. This method is effective for removing the skins, but the peaches become very slippery this way and are difficult to work with. Also, there always seems to be water everywhere—on the counter, running down your arms, etc. It really makes a big mess. The "new" method seems to be more effective and it is not messy at all—I will never go back to the other way.

To begin, cut a slash in the bottom of each peach. Place the peaches in a heatproof bowl. Pour boiling water over the peaches and let them sit for 30 seconds. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the peaches to a towel and let them sit until they are cool enough to handle (a minute or two). Peel the peaches as for the other method, using your thumb and a paring knife. The peaches will have almost steamed themselves dry as they cool on the towels, and there will not be all the sloshing, slippery, cold water to deal with. Even better, the peeled peaches aren't nearly as slick when they haven't been submerged in cold water.

When I made my cake I made a spiral pattern with sliced peaches on top of the cake, but since the peaches are covered pretty thoroughly by streusel, you could just cut the peaches in 1/2- to 3/4-inch chunks and scatter them evenly over the cake.

My usual habit when I make a coffeecake is to allow it to cool, then portion it and then freeze the individually wrapped portions.  This way I always have a stash of homemade baked goods available for my breakfast.  And most of this cake did end up frozen and ready for breakfast.  But it looked so tempting when it came out of the oven, that we had some after dinner with vanilla ice cream.  It made a pretty nice summer dessert.  So even if you don't like to eat cake for breakfast, you should still be able to find a way to enjoy the charms of this cake.

Peach Streusel Coffeecake

Streusel:
1 1/3 c. all purpose flour
1/3 c. sugar
1/3 c. brown sugar
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. nutmeg
1/2 t. allspice
1/4 t. salt
8 T. unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Place the dry ingredients in a bowl and whisk to blend. Add the butter as you stir with a fork or rubber spatula. Squeeze the mixture into clumps. Set aside.

Cake:
1 ¾ c. all-purpose flour (7 oz.)
¾ t. salt
1 t. baking powder
½ t. baking soda
8 T. (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 c. sugar
2 eggs, at room temperature
1 t. vanilla
1 c. sour cream
3 medium ripe peaches, peeled and sliced 1/2-inch thick
1/2 c. toasted pecans, coarsely broken

Butter a 10- by 2-inch round cake pan (you could use a 9- by 9- by 2-inch square pan if you prefer). Line the pan with parchment and butter the parchment. Flour the pan, tapping out the excess, and set aside.

Combine the first four ingredients in a small bowl and set aside. Cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.

Beat in the eggs, one at a time. Beat in the vanilla. By hand (or on low speed), add the flour in three additions, alternately with the sour cream in two additions.

Spread half of the batter in the prepared pan, Sprinkle with one-third to one-half of the streusel. Spread the remaining batter over the streusel and arrange the peaches on top. Combine the pecans with the remaining streusel and sprinkle this mixture over the cake. Bake the cake at 350° until springy to the touch and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean—about 50 to 60 minutes. Cool in the pan for 15 minutes. Run a small spatula around the edge of the pan and flip the cake out onto a plate. Flip the cake back over onto a wire rack (so that it is right side up) and allow the cake to cool completely.

Printable Version

Linguine with Garden-Fresh Basil Pesto, Green Beans & Potatoes

The garden that I keep in my back yard is almost entirely shaded. I love flower and perennial gardening in the shade, but as a cook, I would like to be able to maintain a small kitchen garden. The area on the periphery of my yard that is sunny enough to be devoted to a few vegetables and herbs has become smaller and smaller each year as the canopy of our beautiful Silver Maple continues to expand.

For several years now, my "kitchen garden" has been just tomatoes and herbs. I made the decision this year to forgo the tomatoes and now, if you don't count my perennial rhubarb plant, my kitchen garden has become an herb garden.

I miss the tomatoes, but without their massive bulk climbing and crawling everywhere, my herbs have done very well. My basil plants have been particularly happy and I have enjoyed having an abundant supply all summer to tuck into pastas, salads and vegetable ragouts. I anticipate being able to freeze large quantities of pesto—something I haven't been able to do for several years. Before this year, even though I would faithfully plant two or three basil plants in the spring, by mid-summer the tomatoes would have swallowed them up. Perhaps I will even have enough basil to make some basil butter for the freezer too.

Basil pesto is wonderful in many different things—sandwiches, soups, pizza, pasta.... It pairs well with all of the vegetables of late summer—tomatoes, green beans, summer squash, peppers, eggplant—I particularly like it with sweet corn. It seems to have a special affinity for starchy ingredients like potatoes, bread, pasta and shell beans. It is these starchy things that will be dressed with my freezer stash of pesto during the winter months ahead. If you make some pesto, you will find many, many uses for it.

I think pesto should be all about the basil, with the cheese, nuts and garlic adding interest and support. But there is not universal agreement on this. I have a chef friend (you know who you are) that I tease about his version of pesto. I tell him he really isn't making basil pesto—he's making Parmesan-pine nut pesto. Even though I harass him, his pesto is delicious—and a great example of how you should always make things to please your palate...no matter what a recipe says. Having said that, be careful with the garlic. Even if you like strong garlic flavor, a little goes a long way.

When I make pesto, I always try to plan far enough ahead so that after I have washed and dried my basil in the salad spinner, there will be time to spread it on towels to allow it to dry completely.  Water left clinging to the leaves emulsifies into the pesto and tends to encourage it to oxidize. I also take a minute to smash the garlic to a smooth purée using my chef's knife and some salt before putting it into the food processor with the basil and toasted pine nuts.  This will insure that it will be evenly and smoothly distributed throughout the pesto.  Finally, don't begin to add any of the oil until the pine nuts and basil are as finely minced as you would like them to be. Adding the oil too early will make it difficult to achieve a uniform and fine mince.

Once the contents of the processor bowl are ready, add the oil in a thin stream with the processor running. Then pulse in the finely grated cheese. I like to use a mix of Parmesan and Pecorino—the Pecorino adds a sharp, salty accent. The final consistency should be thick. If it is thin and runny, you have added too much oil.

One of my favorite ways to enjoy basil pesto is in the classic Ligurian dish of linguine tossed with green beans and potatoes and sauced with pesto. To the instructions given in the recipe below, I would only add that this is not a dish about bright green, tender-crisp green beans—while they shouldn't be falling apart, they should be fully cooked. Similarly, the potatoes should be quite tender. It's OK if they crumble a bit as you toss the pasta.

When I teach pasta in my classes I always emphasize that it is important to save some of the pasta cooking water to correct the consistency of a sauce that is too thick. When using pesto as a pasta sauce, this is imperative. As mentioned above, pesto is thick. In order to sauce pasta, the pesto must be thinned somehow. Many people make the mistake of adding more oil. This results in an overly rich dish that can be sticky and stodgy. Instead of oil, the pesto should be combined with some of the pasta water until it is fluid and sauce-like. I find that people who say that they don't like pasta with pesto have probably never had it made with properly thinned pesto.

It has been such a treat this year to have abundant, garden-fresh basil all summer.  And while I will enjoy having pesto in my freezer to use this winter, I have to say that now is the time to really enjoy basil. Something happens to basil when it is exposed to the cold of the refrigerator or freezer—its flavor becomes slightly sharp...even harsh. Basil fresh from the garden is sweet and aromatic. Grocery store basil (even when sold in a small plug of soil, ostensibly still growing) cannot compare to basil that has been grown just outside of your own back door and has been cut right before you use it. If you have never grown your own basil, you should make a note in your planner to plant some next summer. A small patch of bright sunlight is all you will need.

Basil Pesto

1 clove of garlic, peeled and smashed to a purée with a pinch of salt
1/4 c. lightly toasted pine nuts
2 c. packed basil leaves (about 2 ounces), washed and dried
1/2 c. grated Parmesan and/or Pecorino
1/2 c. extra virgin olive oil
Salt, to taste

Place the garlic, basil and pine nuts in the food processor and process until the ingredients are finely and evenly chopped (stop the food processor a couple of times to scrape down the sides). With the food processor running, add the oil in a thin stream. Scrape down the sides; add the cheese and pulse to combine. Add salt to taste. Makes about 1 cup.

Although it is best at room temperature the day it is made, basil pesto will keep in the refrigerator about a week. Keep covered with a film of olive oil.

Linguine with Pesto, Green Beans & New Potatoes

1/2 lb. new potatoes, scrubbed and sliced 1/8-inch thick

1/2 lb. green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch lengths
1 lb. Linguine
1/2 to 3/4 cup Basil pesto

Salt

Parmesan

Place the potatoes in a high-sided sauté pan with a lid and add water to just barely cover the potatoes. Season with salt and drizzle with a little olive oil. Simmer the potatoes until they are just tender; set aside.

Blanch the green beans in 6 quarts of boiling salted water. Lift the beans out of the water and spread on a towel.

Add the linguine to the water and cook until al dente. Drain, reserving some of the pasta water.

Place a half cup of the pesto in a large bowl. Add enough pasta water (2 T. or so) to the pesto to thin it to a sauce consistency. Add the drained potatoes, the green beans and the linguine and toss to coat. Taste and correct the seasoning with salt and more pesto if you like. Add more pasta water if it seems dry or tight. Serve immediately, passing freshly grated Parmesan separately. Serves 4 to 6.

Gratin of Eggplant & Tomatoes and Some Thoughts on Fresh Bread Crumbs

When I wrote my post for summer tomato sauce, I was working on an upcoming class on late summer foods from the South of France. One of the recipes that I will be teaching in that class is for a Gratin of Eggplant and Tomatoes.

Because there are so few ingredients, the success of this dish is almost wholly dependent on the quality of the ingredients.  Of particular importance is the tomato sauce, which is why I wanted to write the post on summer tomato sauce before I posted this recipe.  You could of course make the gratin with a good quality jarred sauce—and it would be fine—just rather ordinary. The concentrated tomato flavor and garlicky kick of the homemade sauce elevates this simple dish to the level of extraordinary. In addition to the homemade sauce, choose the best eggplant available to you and make sure that all of the other ingredients are of the best and freshest quality.

I think it's worth mentioning that this attention to quality should extend to even the breadcrumbs.  It is so easy to make them and the ones that come in cans, bags and boxes are so very inferior. Please make your own. It would be silly to go to all the trouble to make a wonderful tomato sauce and combine it with farm fresh eggplant, summer basil and good Parmesan only to top it with something that is the equivalent of sawdust.

To make fresh bread crumbs you need slightly stale bread. The best bread crumbs are made from good baguettes and artisanal country French or Italian-style loaves. Since these types of loaves don't have any preservatives, they are generally stale enough to be made into breadcrumbs a couple of days after they have been baked. If you never have odds and ends of bread left over, purchase a loaf, let it get stale and then make crumbs. A whole loaf will make a lot of bread crumbs, but that's not really a problem because they freeze very well. To make the crumbs, cut off the hard crusts and then cut the interior of the bread into chunks. Process the chunks in the food processor until they are as coarse or as fine as you want. For "fine, dry breadcrumbs", I dry the chunks of bread (or coarsely ground crumbs) in a low oven. When they are cool, I grind them until they are fine. These can be frozen, too.

When you look at this recipe you will probably notice that it is a very simple version of Eggplant Parmesan. Many of the traditional dishes of Provence have Italian counterparts. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about French Soupe au Pistou—a soup much like Italian Minestrone. With the Italian version of this gratin in mind, you might think of adding some sliced Mozzarella or Fontina to the first two layers of eggplant and tomato sauce. A little ricotta or some thinly sliced prosciutto would also be nice. Like any gratin, there are lots of possibilities for layers and lots of flavor combinations to play with.

For my part, I love this dish on the simple side. Occasionally I will follow Lulu Peyraud's example and make it with just the tomato sauce, eggplant (she fries hers—but this is a bit too much oil for me) and breadcrumbs. It is quite good even without the Parmesan and the basil.  However you choose to make it, I like it best served as an entrée—with a nice green salad and some good crusty bread.

Gratin of Eggplant & Tomatoes

(Gratin d'Aubergines aux Tomates)

2 eggplant (1 1/2 to 2 lbs.)

3 to 4 T. olive oil

Salt & Pepper
2 to 2 1/2 cups tomato sauce
Several leaves of fresh basil, torn or cut in a wide chiffonade
1/3 to 1/2 c. finely grated Parmesan (1 to 1 1/2 oz.)
3/4 c. fresh coarse bread crumbs
1 to 2 T. olive oil for drizzling

Top and tail the eggplants. Slice each eggplant lengthwise into 1/3-to 1/2-inch thick slices. Spread the eggplant on a baking sheet and brush both sides with olive oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Broil the eggplant until golden brown; turn and broil the other side in a similar manner.

As the eggplant brown, remove from the sheet and stack them on top of one another while they are still hot so that they will continue to steam one another and cook through. Set aside.

While the eggplant cooks, warm the tomato sauce over low heat.

To build the gratin, lightly oil a shallow 1 1/2- to 2-quart gratin or casserole. Arrange 1/3 of the eggplant in a snug layer in the bottom of the gratin. It is fine if the slices overlap slightly. Spread a third of the tomato sauce over the layer of eggplant.

Scatter half of the cheese and half of the basil over the sauce.

Repeat with the eggplant, sauce, cheese and basil. For the final layers, arrange the last third of the eggplant slices as before and cover with the remaining tomato sauce. Scatter the breadcrumbs over all. Drizzle the breadcrumbs with olive oil.

Transfer to a 350° to 375° oven and bake until the breadcrumbs are golden brown and the gratin is bubbling around the edges—about 30 minutes. Serve hot or tepid. Serves 4.

Printable Version

Plum & Raspberry Crisp with Almonds

Ask any of my cooking friends and they will probably be able to tell you that my favorite kind of desserts are fruit desserts. Yes, I know I have said many times in this space that I love cake, but my favorite kinds of cakes are those that include fruit—Rhubarb Cornmeal Cake, Blueberry & Pecan Buttermilk Tea Cake, Apple Crumb Coffeecake, Pear and Ginger Upside Down Cake, Plum Cobbler.... The combinations and variations are endless and so delicious.  And of course I love the fact that a fruit dessert is inherently a reflection of the season.

In terms of return for effort though, my favorite fruit dessert is the crisp. Anybody can make a fruit crisp. One need not possess the ability to turn out a tender or flaky crust as for a pie or a tart. Neither is it necessary to be able to make a light biscuit as for a shortcake or certain kinds of cobbler. You don't even need to know what it means to whip cream to the chantilly stage as for a fool. Just combine some flour, sugar and spices in a bowl and add some cold sliced butter. Stick your (clean and dry) hands in the bowl and begin to grab handfuls of the ingredients and methodically rub your thumbs across your fingers to "rub" the butter into the dry ingredients until you have a crumbly mixture. Add nuts or oatmeal and you're there.

I was reminded recently of how much I like crisps when I saw that my friend Katrina (Baking and Boys) had posted the Apricot and Cherry Crisp that I had demonstrated in a Spring Fruit Desserts Class. It came to mind when I was asked to bring a dessert for a dinner at a friend's home. Plums are in season now, and like apricots (all stone fruits actually) they make a pretty stellar tasting crisp. The tart flavor of the cooked plums stands up well to the sweet topping.

When I make crisps I almost always use more than one kind of fruit. Even if it's just as simple as combining two different varieties of apples, I think using more than one fruit gives necessary added dimension to the final flavor. One of my favorite fruits to combine with plums is raspberries. You could use frozen, but raspberries are also in season right now, so they make a natural partner for the plums. Not only do these two fruits taste great in combination, when they are cooked together, they turn a deep, jewel-like reddish-purple that is mouth watering.

When I went to the store to buy my plums, the pluots looked better, so I got those instead. Like plumcots and apriums, pluots are a cross between plums and apricots. I am not familiar with the intricacies in the differences between these crosses, but since I like both apricots and plums in a crisp, I thought the pluots would be good too. I was amazed at the scarlet-tinged flesh of the pluot since I was expecting the paler interior of a plum or even the orange-colored flesh of an apricot.

a melon baller works very well for pitting plums

Their color when cooked was even better than the plums. As far as the flavor goes, I honestly don't know if I could tell the difference (I haven't had a plum crisp since last year).  But I do know that it tasted very good and I would make it again with either of these stone fruits when they make their annual appearance.

Plum-Raspberry Crisp with Almond Crumb Topping

Topping (from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, by Deborah Madison):
3/4 c. light or golden brown sugar
2/3 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 t. salt
1/2 t. cinnamon (optional)
6 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into 8 to 10 pieces
3/4 c. sliced almonds, lightly toasted

Combine the sugar, flour, salt and cinnamon in a medium-sized bowl. Rub in the butter until the ingredients are combined and have a crumbly appearance. Stir in the almonds and set aside. If you have time, chill the topping.

Filling:
2 T. all-purpose flour
1/3 c. sugar
1 ½ lbs. plums, halved, pitted & cut into ½-inch slices
1 ½ t. lemon juice
1 t. vanilla
2 c. fresh raspberries (1 ½ boxes)

In a small bowl stir together the flour and sugar; set aside. In a large bowl, toss the plums with the vanilla and lemon juice. Add the dry ingredients and stir until all of the flour-sugar mixture is moistened. Fold in the raspberries.

Turn the fruit mixture into a buttered 2-quart glass or ceramic baking dish—an 8x10-inch rectangular or a 10-inch round will work.

Spread the crumb topping over all.

Bake in a 375° oven until the topping is golden and crisp and the fruit is bubbling—about 35 to 45 minutes.

Cool slightly and serve warm with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.  Serves 6 to 8.

Printable Version

Summer Tomato Sauce

As you walk through the farmers' market or pass a roadside produce stand in August and September you will see tables laden with tomatoes so ripe they are practically turning into sauce in their skins. Of course this abundance is nature's way of encouraging us to preserve the excess so there will be a stash to dip into long after the vines have quit producing for the year. So as long as the glut lasts, I try to purchase extra tomatoes every week. That way, no matter how busy I am, I will be forced to make a batch or two of sauce during the coming week (I couldn't stand to see the tomatoes rotting on the counter...going to waste).

Everyone should have a good recipe for tomato sauce made with summer tomatoes. I use one that I have altered only slightly from a recipe in Lulu's Provençal Table by Richard Olney. Besides the tomatoes, the sauce is made with olive oil, onions cooked until meltingly soft, loads of fresh garlic, and a few sprigs of thyme. That's it. But since I always seem to have something to say, I'll elaborate a bit...

For the tomatoes, I choose plain vine-ripened tomatoes. One farmer at my market always has mountains of spectacular Jet Stars that make a very sunny tasting sauce. I peel them and seed them before making the sauce. If you are going to purée the sauce, you can accomplish the task of peeling and seeding very quickly by passing the cored and quartered tomatoes through a food mill. I like my sauce to have some texture, so I peel and seed by hand. I don't bother with blanching and shocking the tomatoes to get the skin off. I think it makes a big mess and besides, a dead ripe tomato is very easy to peel.

To peel a tomato, first lightly bruise the flesh under the skin in order to loosen it. Holding the tomato in one hand and a paring knife in the other, gently drag the paring knife, held at an angle, from the stem to the blossom end. Do this all the way around the tomato as if you were peeling an apple.

To remove the skin, flip the tomato over and cut a slash in the blossom end. Then, grab the edge of the skin at the slit and with your thumb and the paring knife and pull the skin away. It should all come off in a few pulls. Core the tomato and put it in a bowl while you peel the rest.

To seed the tomatoes, halve them horizontally (through the equator). Working over a sieve set over a bowl, barely squeeze each tomato half (as if juicing an orange) and give it a gentle shake.  If necessary, use the index finger of your free hand to gently prod the seeds out of each cavity. When all the tomatoes are seeded, chop them coarsely and place them in a bowl. Use a spatula or ladle to stir the contents of the sieve, continuing to stir and press against the sieve until all the juice has passed into the bowl and all that remains in the sieve is the seeds. Add the juice to the tomatoes.

After reading this description, you may decide that you prefer a puréed/smooth sauce. But it is much more difficult to describe than it is to do. Furthermore, in the time it takes you to peel and seed your tomatoes your onions will have had plenty of time to cook. And this is important, because sufficiently cooking the onions is, to me at least, one of the secrets of a fine tomato sauce.

When you begin cooking the onions, set them over moderate heat.  This will encourage them to start to give up their juices. If you are using farmers' market onions, they should be fresh and juicy this time of year. I get mine from the same farmer who sells me the tomatoes. After a few minutes the onions will be stewing in their own juices. As they cook the juices will evaporate and the onions will then be cooking in just the oil. The heat should be turned down at this point so the onions can continue to cook slowly without caramelizing. The onions will take on a straw yellow color as they continue to cook, but they should not brown. When the onions are done they will have shrunk quite a bit in volume and they will be very soft. Don't try and shorten this process.  The final sauce shouldn't contain crunchy bits of onion. And the long, gentle cooking process will draw out the inherent sweetness of the onions—a good thing for a tomato sauce.

As for the other flavorings, the original recipe contains an abundance of garlic and I have not changed this. The garlic cooks slowly with the onions and then in the sauce so it mellows considerably by the time the sauce is finished. But you could of course cut down on the garlic to suit your palate.

Winter savory, a frequently-used herb in Provençal cookery, is Lulu Peyraud's herb of choice for the tomato sauce. The book mentions that it grows outside her back door. I too have winter savory growing on my patio, but for some reason I always reach for the thyme instead.

You could also add bay leaf. Other possible herbs include oregano, marjoram or rosemary. I think these last three have a much stronger voice than thyme, so I probably wouldn't use them for a sauce destined for the freezer. You can always add one of these herbs when you thaw the sauce to tailor it to whatever you are making.

When you make your tomato sauce, choose a pan that is wider than it is tall. You want the sauce to be able to reduce as it cooks and a wide surface area will allow it to do this more rapidly. Cook the sauce at a brisk simmer.

When the sauce begins to thicken, reduce the heat a bit so that the sauce won't scorch. Stir the sauce occasionally and use a heat proof spatula to scrape the sides of the pan so that any sauce building up there can be stirred back into the simmering sauce. I also use the spatula to smash the tomatoes against the bottom and sides of the pan as they break down.

The sauce is done when it is as thick as you want it to be. I prefer it when there is no longer any visible tomato liquid. At this point, the sauce will be on the thick side. When it is where I want it I usually have a cup of sauce for every pound of fresh tomatoes.

I package my finished sauce in zip-lock bags in one cup portions. I then lay them flat on a cookie sheet and freeze them. Once frozen, the slim little packets stack nicely into a corner of the freezer where they will provide a sunny touch to our meals in the cooler months ahead.

Tomato Sauce

3 to 4 T. olive oil
2 medium onions, finely diced (about 10 to 12 oz.)
8 to 10 cloves garlic, minced
4 to 5 lbs. vine ripened tomatoes, peeled, seeded (juices reserved) and chopped
Several sprigs of fresh thyme or winter savory, tied with a string
Salt

In a wide sauce pan, sweat the onion in the olive oil over medium heat. When the onions begin to soften (after about 10 minutes) add the garlic along with a pinch of salt. Reduce the heat and continue to cook until the onions are meltingly tender and have taken on a pale yellow cast (but are not caramelized). This will take about 30 to 45 minutes.

Add the tomatoes and the thyme. Increase the heat and bring to a brisk simmer. Continue to simmer, stirring occasionally and scraping down the sides of the pan until the sauce is thickened—about an hour. Remove the thyme. Taste and correct the seasoning.

If you like, purée the sauce. An immersion blender is best for this, since it will leave the sauce with some texture. If you don't have an immersion blender, transfer half of the sauce to a blender or food processor to purée and combine this the purée with the sauce still in the pan—again, to achieve a final sauce with a little texture. I think the sauce is nicest when it has not been puréed—the larger pieces of tomato will have broken down during the cooking process and the resulting sauce will have just the right amount of chunkiness. Makes 4 to 5 cups.

The final picture above is of a sauce that was half puréed.  Here is a picture of one that has not been puréed:

(Recipe adapted from Lulu's Provençal Table by Richard Olney)