This is my roommate Joel’s easy brrrrruuuuskyettta (you have to over-pronounce it like Giada De Laurentiis) recipe. It’s impressive as hell — the colours are eye-popping! And the taste? Get outta here. It makes a fantastic appetizer or potluck contribution, but fair warning: this is morish, and could be all you need for a full meal.
Here’s how you make the fancy glaze to impress your friends:
It is important that you start this before all of the above steps, since it can take a while to thicken, especially if you fail miserably and have to hide your mistakes and start over
- Add two parts balsamic vinegar, one part water, and one part brown sugar to pot and put it on the stove (turn the stove on for optimal effect)
- Bring the mixture to a boil and then reduce it to a simmer, leaving it uncovered so it can slowly thicken.
- To test if the glaze has thickened enough, take a spoon and dip in in the glaze. Without burning yourself, hold the spoon horizontally and run your finger horizontally across the back of the spoon, creating a line in the glaze. The glaze is done if it does not spill down to cover the line you just created.
- Let the glaze sit while you prepare the bread and toppings (make sure to keep it slightly warm otherwise it will thicken to the point that it can be used as a building material and you’ll just have to throw out your kitchen).
Here’s what you’ll need to put on the bread:
- Bread, obviously — I just grab a fresh looking baguette and slice it as evenly as possible. You can eat the reject slices with impunity.
- Some tomatoes — I typically use five or six medium-sized ones. I prefer roma tomatoes, but that preference is based on literally nothing.
- Red onion — usually half of a large one, or more if you have an onion fetish.
- Garlic cloves — Three? Four? Is there ever too much garlic?
- Basil — never sure how many leaves I use, just make sure there is basil in every bite by the time the mixture is finished. And make sure you pronounce it bah-sil, not bay-sil, otherwise the recipe will fail and your friends will pretend they like it but then exchange knowing glances when you leave the room.
- Goat cheese — as much as you can buy because you can use the leftovers to make your life better.
Here’s how to assemble your bruschetta:
- Cut up your tomatoes, remove all of the gross soupy insides and then dice them into roughly the same size. Contemplate humanity while doing so.
- Set in a big bowl to wait until you’re ready to add everything else. Then clean the tomato innards out of every conceivable nook and cranny in your kitchen — even the ones you thought the innards could not possibly reach.
- Dice your red onion slightly smaller than your tomato.
- Dice your garlic slightly smaller than your red onion.
- Throw your onion and garlic into a frying pan with olive oil and saute — don’t burn the garlic because you’ll never get that smell out of your memory.
- Once the onions and garlic have been softened and taken on a bit of colour (preferrably brown — if they begin to turn orange, you’ve mistakenly added saffron), add them to the bowl with the tomatoes.
- Chiffonade the bah-sil or just cut it so you can evenly distribute it throughout the tomato/onion/garlic business, add it to the bowl and stir, adding salt and pepper to taste.
- Spread your bread out on a baking dish and brush it with a bit of olive oil. Top all of your bread with a spoonful of the mixture. Swear occasionally as the mixture hates staying neatly on the bread.
- Crumble goat cheese on top — use a fork and scrape the tines of the fork along the goat cheese to make it crumble without causing you to break down crying.
- Throw all of that glory into an oven heated to 375 degrees Fahrenheit until the bread has turned crispy and the goat cheese is slightly melted.
- Take the bread out of the oven and, using a spoon (or whatever utensil you wish — I’m not a cop) drizzle a bit of the balsamic glaze over all of it.