I’ve had a pretty tumultuous history with tomatoes. Lots of seedy, mealy slices in my sandwiches that get slid right out after a couple bites. Or those godawful gushers in my salads that I just sneer my nose at and refuse to eat altogether. But thankfully, after thirty-some years on this planet, I’ve finally made my peace with them. Just so long as they’re blasted to hell in the oven with lots of oil and salt.