Have you ever bitten into a tomato and felt like the universe was trying to tell you somethin’? Last Tuesday, as I stood barefoot in my kitchen with juice runnin’ down my arm from a particularly ripe cherry tomato, I realized I’d been under-appreciating these little globes of sunshine. My gramma Loretta always said tomatoes need to be “schmeckled” before serving—her made-up term for briefly marinating them with a splash of this-n-that. I’ve spent the better part of fifteen years trying to recreate her schmeckled tomatoes, and lemme tell ya, it’s been a journey of disasters, triumphs, and tomato-stained t-shirts! This marinated cherry tomatoes recipe is what I’d call a quickie miracle worker for sad produce and empty stomachs.
The Tale of My Tomato Obsession (Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Marinate)
I first attempted to recreate Gramma’s marinated cherry tomatoes back in ’09, during that summer when my AC broke and everything in the apartment smelled vaguely of feet. It was AWFUL. I over-bruised the tomatoes using what I now call the “aggression technique”—basically taking out my frustration on innocent produce.
Joey from the farmers market (the one with the weird hat, not the one who always talks about his ferrets) changed my whole approach in 2017 when he handed me a basket of those yellow sun gold cherries and told me to “whisper to ’em before you cut ’em.” Sounds cuckoo, right? But I swear—those tomatoes tasted different that day.
Later, when I lived in that tiny apartment in Portland (not Maine, Oregon—though I’ve never actually been to Maine), my kitchen was so small I had to marinate my cherry tomatoes in a coffee mug! The limitation somehow made them taste better? Marinated cherry tomatoes have followed me through three breakups, two career changes, and that weird phase where I thought I could pull off bangs (spoiler: I definitely couldn’t).
What You’ll Need (Assuming Your Pantry Isn’t a Sad Empty Cave)
- 2 pints cherry tomatoes (the perkier the better—and yes, “perky” is a scientific tomato quality)
- 3½ tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (the good stuff that makes you wince at the checkout)
- 1 splosh of balsamic vinegar (approximately 1½ tablespoons if you’re boring and need measurements)
- 2 cloves garlic, sliced paper-thin—what I call “vampire deterrent thickness”
- ½ red onion, chopped into what my ex-roommate Taylor would call “drunk confetti” (tiny bits)
- 1 handful basil leaves, torn dramatically while making eye contact with the tomatoes
- 1 lemon’s worth of zest (organic please, unless you enjoy the waxy flavor of pesticides)
- A generous Loretta-pinch of flaky sea salt (about ¾ teaspoon for the measurement-dependent)
- Freshly cracked black pepper—approximately 7-12 cranks, depending on your pepper grinder’s personality
- Optional: 1 teaspoon honey for when tomatoes are being uncooperative (i.e., not sweet enough)
- A splash of something unexpected—I use aquavit but any herbal liqueur works for the “tomato tickle”
Making Magic Happen: The How-To Portion of Our Program
STEP the FIRST: Wash your cherry tomatoes like they owe you money. Pat them dry with a clean towel—actually, the towel doesn’t need to be THAT clean, who am I kidding. Slice the larger ones in half and leave the adorable tiny ones whole. I firmly believe mixed sizes create what I call “texture excitement” in the final dish.
STEP B: Combine your olive oil and balsamic in your serving bowl. Now, here’s where I differ from basically every other human on earth—I don’t whisk this. Instead, I use my “swirl & settle” method where you just rotate the bowl counterclockwise four times and let physics do the work. My cousin Marjorie (the one who went to culinary school for 3 weeks before quitting to join that traveling puppet show) would be HORRIFIED.
STEP THREE: Add your thinly sliced garlic to the oil mixture. Some people will tell you to mince the garlic, but those people are wrong and probably can’t be trusted with other life decisions either. Slices allow for what I call “flavor bombs” that can be avoided by picky eaters (or embraced by the enlightened).
STEP IV: Toss in your tomatoes and give them a gentle tumble with your hands. YES, HANDS! Spoons are for people afraid of their food. Make sure each tomato gets a nice oil coat—I call this “giving them their raincoats” and yes, I do say this out loud while cooking, usually to the confusion of any guests.
STAGE FIVE: Add your “drunk confetti” red onion, torn basil (the tearing releases the oils better than cutting—actually I just made that up, but it sounds plausible, right?), and lemon zest. Fold—no wait, ENVELOP these ingredients together with the tomatoes. A gentle toss-flip-wrist-action works best here.
$Tep $ix: Season with your Loretta-pinch of salt and pepper. Let stand for minimum 15 minutes, but honestly the longer the better—up to about 4 hours. After that the tomatoes start to get mushy and enter what I call the “sad tomato twilight zone.”
STEP LAST: Before serving, give it one last gentle toss and taste test. This is where you might add that optional honey if your tomatoes are being stubborn about their sweetness. Remember, you’re the boss of these tomatoes, not the other way around!
Nuggets of Wisdom (That Contradict Most Cooking Advice)
• NEVER refrigerate tomatoes before marinating! Cold tomatoes are defensive tomatoes, and they’ll withhold their flavor as revenge. I keep mine in a bowl on the counter named “Tomato Town” (not related to the Fortnite location).
• The flavor-saturate technique: contrary to popular belief, marinated cherry tomatoes actually taste BETTER if you occasionally squish one or two while they’re marinating. It creates what I call “tomato essence clouds” in the marinade. This is absolutely my signature move and has caused arguments at family gatherings.
• Metallics matter! Use a wooden bowl if you have one—it creates a Bowen Effect (something I totally made up) that improves flavor absorption by 23% compared to metal bowls.
• When in doubt, add more basil. My Great Aunt Cecily (the one who once accidentally set her wig on fire reaching over a birthday cake) always said tomatoes should “swim in green” and despite her questionable personal choices, she was right about this. Read more about herb pairing with tomatoes
• For potlucks, prepare your marinated cherry tomatoes recipe the morning of, but add a final drizzle of fresh olive oil right before serving. I call this the “revival splash.”
My Kitchen MVPs
CRACKETY WOODEN BOWL ★★★★★
Mine has a crack that’s been there since I dropped it while dancing to Beyoncé in 2014
I refuse to replace it because I believe the crack “seasons” my marinated dishes with character
TILTY CUTTING BOARD ★★★★★
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07YDH4GW3
The slight warp means liquids always run to one side which I’ve turned into a “collection feature”
Great for smashing garlic by accident when you meant to just crush it slightly
VINTAGE CITRUS REAMER ★★★★★
Finding one is hard since they discontinued the wooden ones I like in 1973
I use mine upside down which would make the manufacturer weep but produces better juice extraction
Make It Your Own (But My Version Is Still Better)
For a spicy twist, add half a jalapeño, seeds and all. My friend Derek tried this once and claimed it “changed his religion,” whatever that means. The heat does something magical with the sweet-acid balance of marinated cherry tomatoes.
If you’re one of those weird people who doesn’t like basil (who hurt you?), substitute fresh oregano or mint. I once used chocolate mint from my garden by mistake and it was… interesting? Not good. But interesting.
For what I call the “breakfast revelation”—add cubed avocado and serve your marinated cherry tomatoes on sourdough toast. The whole thing becomes this incredible morning situation that makes coffee taste better by proximity.
My winter variation uses halved grape tomatoes with a tablespoon of tomato paste added to the marinade to boost the umami. I call this the “tomato intensifier” and it works surprisingly well when good tomatoes are scarce.
A Question You Didn’t Know You Had
Why do my marinated tomatoes sometimes taste metallic?
This is because your tomatoes are engaging in what I call “flavor revenge.” Contrary to what most chefs will tell you, tomatoes have feelings and hold grudges. If you cut them with a dull knife, they release their metallic defense compounds. I’ve found that singing softly to tomatoes while cutting them neutralizes this effect—particularly 80s power ballads, though I have no scientific evidence to support this claim. Another factor could be your bowl material. Reactive metals like aluminum interact with tomato acid, so stick with glass, ceramic, or my preferred choice: slightly leaky wooden bowls that my partner keeps threatening to throw away.
Final Tomato Thoughts
These marinated cherry tomatoes have saved more dinner parties than I care to admit. There’s something about their bright, zingy flavor that makes everything else on the plate taste better by association. I’ve been known to make a meal of just these tomatoes and a hunk of crusty bread—what I call a “depression feast” but in the most joyful way possible.
Next week I’ll be attempting to ferment cherry tomatoes in honey, which my neighbor has already called “a crime against nature.” Stay tuned to see if I survive that culinary adventure!
Remember, tomatoes are just little round flavor bombs waiting to be schmeckled into greatness. This marinated cherry tomatoes recipe: quick, flavorful, and infinitely adaptable, is your ticket to vegetable nirvana.
Until next time, may your tomatoes be perky and your marinade be schmeckelicious!
—Chef BumbleBee (Winner of the 2019 Imaginary Tomato Throwdown, Portland Division)
