You've got it back there: and it's probably from Vermont: Tomatoes roasted with maple syrup

Let me explain the title. Years ago, when Annalena was very young (I mean YEARS ago), there was an ad campaign for "Golden Blossom Honey," which featured a short clip where someone's hand is moving around in the back of a cabinet, with the voice over. "Go ahead. You probably don't even have to buy it." The point being that everyone had a jar of honey in their cupboards somewhere. And it's true. You probably have one, purchased for the one tablespoon you needed in that dessert you made for your vegan cousin who wouldn't eat white sugar, or for when you were fighting allergens by mixing honey and cider vinegar, or.... We all have such things in our cupboards. My friend Kevin, for example, has a bottle of pomegranate molasses in his cupboard that is missing two tablespoons, because he made muhammarah twice.
And all of us have maple syrup in the house somewhere. REAL maple syrup, be it a large jar, a small jar, or somewhere in between. But we have it. Indeed, at one point, I realized that we had six different varieties of maple syrup. Some we had for so long, that they had literally crystallized to the point that even hot water couldn't open them. That is, fortunately, no longer the case, although it was a sad waste of a tasty item. I just do not use maple syrup all that often. When I do, I use grade B, also called "dark amber." This is not what you will get offered to you when you get pancakes with "real" maple syrup (which is NOT pancake syrup. Beware). I find it tastier. But if you prefer a lighter taste, go with the "grade A."
I really don't know why I don't use it more often, except perhaps that I am so locked into the idea of maple syrup with pancakes or waffles, that it just doesn't happen. And it doesn't happen because, simply, those items are two of my "red light" foods. Weight Watcher alums will know whereof I speak: the foods that you cannot stop eating. It is not because I love pancakes or waffles that much. I enjoy waffles more than pancakes, but in either case, it seems that eating them just makes me hungrier. Who can explain? So they are banished from the kitchen, and I never eat them out for breakfast. And the maple syrup remains...

Now, in typical Annalena fashion, I am going to tie in a seemingly totally unrelated topic: the sorry state of tomatoes in winter. I do not have to brief you on that, you know the story well. Avid readers of this blog (both of you), will recall the attempts a few winters ago, to find a "definitive" recipe for baking cherry tomatoes, to make them intensely flavored, and my abysmal failures with the recipes of my goddess, Ina Garten. Yet, that quest remains. But perhaps not.

I found this unusual sounding recipe in a magazine. It comes from a French Canadian source (big surprise there), and its Canadian name is "Tomate confite au sirop d'Erable". I did not know the French word for maple. Interesting. Anyway, I thought I would give it a try, and it is GOOD. OH, is it good. I almost ate the whole tray of it when it came out of the oven.

As with many of these recipes, you don't need to do much work here, but you do need to settle in for a good, long bake of the tomatoes. I did them on Sunday morning, when very little is actually going on in Annalena's kitchen. Perhaps that would be the right time for you to do them too.

You start with a pint basket of cherry tomatoes. My recipe said you could use grape tomatoes too, but I wouldn't. My experience was that the cherry tomatoes began to overbake really quickly, and I fear that the smaller grape tomatoes would be incinerate. You'll have about 24 tomatoes in that basket. Cut them in half. Doesn't matter whether it's horizontal or vertical, but I find that vertical cuts in tomatoes make for easier cooking. Toss them in a bowl in which you have combined two tablespoons each of maple syrup (any grade), two tablespoons of olive oil, a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme, where you've discarded the woody branch, 2 very thinly sliced peeled cloves of garlic, and a pinch of salt. Then, line a baking sheet with tin foil and put the tomatoes and other goodies, cut side up, on the tin foil.

You may at this point think you have failed, because the tomatoes will immediately begin giving off liquid. That's ok. They're supposed to. Put the tray into an oven which has been preheated to 250. (that is not a misprint. This is a very low oven). Check them after two hours. They won't be ready, but you should see the shrinkage. In the third hour, you will begin to experience the wonderful smell that the roasted tomatoes give off.

My recipe said you could go for four hours, but I found that to be too long. After three hours, some of my tomatoes were blackened "clinkers," and the rest were just fine. My pint of tomatoes cooked down to half a cup of delicious, intense tomatoes, that will go wonderfully with some pork chops tomorrow. The recipe suggested them for pizza (I can see that), salad (no self respecting Italian puts tomatoes in a salad; however, why not do this with mozzarella in the winter?), or pasta (now there's a GOOD idea). Frankly, I would love to put these on a sandwich, when I don't have to worry about eating delicately and cleanly.

I may even make myself a double batch tomorrow. This is that good. Go for it.