The tomato tart of our childhood always begins with simple ingredients, carefully chosen. Ripe tomatoes, almost bursting with juice, filled with sunshine. A tart base, often bought at the market, thin and lightly crisp, though it can just as well be homemade on those days when time allows.

On the base, a thin layer of mustard, ideally one with character such as Fallot, just enough to lift the flavours without ever overpowering them. Then the tomatoes, sliced into generous rounds, arranged simply, almost without thinking.

A few herbs from the garden, picked at the last moment, thyme or basil depending on the mood, a drizzle of olive oil, a pinch of salt, a twist of black pepper, sometimes a clove of garlic.

In the oven, the magic happens slowly. The tomatoes soften and gently caramelise, the pastry turns golden, the aromas blend together. Taken out, it is shared while still warm, often without waiting, in that simplicity that makes it everything. A tart like a memory of summer, humble, yet deeply satisfying.