I was flipping through my new Martha Everyday Food magazine and got in the mood for some bruschetta. Feeling a little martha-ee, I quickly packed up the two little ones and ran to the store after Krischan got on the bus. What an awesome idea for a lunch item.
I first cut up some tomatoes. (Amazingly enough there were some good ones at the store.) Diced some basil and crushed some garlic, then mixed it all together.
I bought French Bread since I wanted it to be small, and really that is all I could see that didn't require you to bake it. You could use whatever bread you can find. I like to slice mine thin though, about a quarter of an inch in thickness. You could probably use whole wheat bread also, make a country version of brew-ski-tia.(wanted to sound like a country woman when I said that, did it work?)
So after I cut the bread, I put some olive oil in a pan and toasted it. You could simply brush the toast with the olive oil, but hey, olive oil is good so why not just pour it in the pan?
Then I put a little baby spring mix on the toast, and piled on the garlic, basil and tomato mix.
Final touch, a bit of mozzarella cheese. What is garlic, basil, and tomato without mozzarella? You could also drizzle some Balsamic vinegar on them before serving. Oh yum!! my mouth is just watering right now.
Being the wonderful wife that I am, I send a picture of my lunch to my husband. The response I get is one of jealousy, irritation, and longing for what I had. Along with the "I see how you are, I leave to deliver bikes and you cook up a gourmet lunch. All I get is warmed up Olive Garden, and it wasn't even what I ordered, it was yours."*
Maybe tomorrow I will make it again, it was so good I don't think I can resist. Although Martha wouldn't make the same thing two days in a row would she? She probably doesn't even cook the same thing twice!
*Never fear, I was a true wonderful wife and made him some so when he got home from his last appointment (which happened to be 10:30 pm) there was a plate on the counter with bruschetta on it, alongside a note that said I heart you. (the note wasn't very Martha-ee, she wouldn't be proud) He came upstairs looking like he was holding the most precious thing in the world and the largest smile on his face. He sat down next to me, said I was the best, and then said how he was going to eat them slow so that he could savor them properly.
I first cut up some tomatoes. (Amazingly enough there were some good ones at the store.) Diced some basil and crushed some garlic, then mixed it all together.
I bought French Bread since I wanted it to be small, and really that is all I could see that didn't require you to bake it. You could use whatever bread you can find. I like to slice mine thin though, about a quarter of an inch in thickness. You could probably use whole wheat bread also, make a country version of brew-ski-tia.(wanted to sound like a country woman when I said that, did it work?)
So after I cut the bread, I put some olive oil in a pan and toasted it. You could simply brush the toast with the olive oil, but hey, olive oil is good so why not just pour it in the pan?
Then I put a little baby spring mix on the toast, and piled on the garlic, basil and tomato mix.
Final touch, a bit of mozzarella cheese. What is garlic, basil, and tomato without mozzarella? You could also drizzle some Balsamic vinegar on them before serving. Oh yum!! my mouth is just watering right now.
Being the wonderful wife that I am, I send a picture of my lunch to my husband. The response I get is one of jealousy, irritation, and longing for what I had. Along with the "I see how you are, I leave to deliver bikes and you cook up a gourmet lunch. All I get is warmed up Olive Garden, and it wasn't even what I ordered, it was yours."*
Maybe tomorrow I will make it again, it was so good I don't think I can resist. Although Martha wouldn't make the same thing two days in a row would she? She probably doesn't even cook the same thing twice!
*Never fear, I was a true wonderful wife and made him some so when he got home from his last appointment (which happened to be 10:30 pm) there was a plate on the counter with bruschetta on it, alongside a note that said I heart you. (the note wasn't very Martha-ee, she wouldn't be proud) He came upstairs looking like he was holding the most precious thing in the world and the largest smile on his face. He sat down next to me, said I was the best, and then said how he was going to eat them slow so that he could savor them properly.
Yummm. I am 10% excited for summer because of the warm weather and sunshine. I am 90% excited for summer because of the tomatoes. This looks so dang delicious.
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