Tomato Pie Recipe

Look. I get it. When you hear “tomato pie,” your brain might flash to some sad, soggy church basement dish from 1987.
But nah. Not this one.
This? This is summer on a plate. Warm, cheesy, tangy, a little spicy — like a BLT decided to become a pie and move in with your oven.
And honestly? It’s kind of stupid easy.

I made this last weekend after grabbing a haul of tomatoes from the farmers market. They were too pretty to just slice and eat. Too juicy to ignore. So I turned them into something that made my kitchen smell like a Southern diner at noon — in the best way possible.

Let’s talk about why this isn’t just food. It’s therapy.

Wait… Is Tomato Pie Actually Good for Me?

Okay, don’t get excited. There’s mayonnaise. And cheese. A lot of cheese.
But hear me out.

Tomatoes? Packed with lycopene. That’s the stuff that fights off free radicals like a tiny antioxidant ninja. Cooked tomatoes actually release more lycopene than raw ones — so baking them? Smart move.

Onions and basil bring flavor, sure. But also — onions have quercetin (fancy word, I know), which is great for your immune system. Basil? It’s got anti-inflammatory properties. Also, it smells like summer and makes everything feel fancy.

Now, the mayo and cheese — yeah, they’re rich. But we’re not eating this every day. We’re eating it when life needs a little comfort. When the AC’s broken and you need something that tastes like sunshine and nostalgia.

So is it “healthy”? Depends. If you’re counting calories, maybe serve it with a giant salad. If you’re counting joy? Then yes. This is 100% nutritious.

What You’ll Need (And Why Each Thing Matters)

Let’s walk through the cast of characters. No weird ingredients. Nothing you need to hunt for in the back of a specialty store.

• 1 (9-inch) pie shell – Homemade? Cool. Store-bought? Also cool. I won’t tell. The crust is the foundation. Like shoes. You can go barefoot sometimes, but other times… you just need support.
• 3 to 4 large tomatoes – Ripe, red, juicy. Not mealy. Not sad. These are the stars. Squeeze them like you’re mad at someone. Get that liquid out. We want flavor, not soup.
• ½ teaspoon kosher salt – Not just for taste. Salt pulls water out of the tomatoes. Less water = less soggy pie. Science wins again.
• ½ cup chopped onion – Yellow or red. Your call. I like red for color, yellow for sweetness. This adds bite. Depth. A little zing. Like the friend who shows up late but brings wine.
• ¼ cup thinly sliced basil – Chiffonade, if you wanna sound fancy. Stack the leaves, roll ‘em, slice thin. It’s not just garnish. It’s what makes this taste like fresh, not just cheesy.
• 2 cups grated cheese – I go half sharp cheddar, half Monterey Jack. Melty. Tangy. Gooey. Gruyère works if you’re feeling fancy. Mozzarella if you want mild. Don’t skip the shred. Pre-shredded has junk on it to keep it from clumping. Freshly grated? Melts better. Trust me.
• ½ cup mayonnaise – Wait, what? Yeah. Hear me out. It’s creamy. It holds the cheese. It browns nicely. And no, you won’t taste “mayo.” You’ll taste rich. Like the pie wore a leather jacket.
• 1 teaspoon hot sauce (Frank’s or Tabasco) – Just a kick. Not enough to burn. Just enough to say, “Hey. I’m here.” You can skip it. But why would you?
• Freshly ground black pepper – Always. Always fresh. Pre-ground pepper is sad dust. This? This has soul.

How to Make Tomato Pie (Step by Step, No Drama)

Step 1: Preheat & Prep the Crust

Oven to 350°F. Rack in the middle.
Now, the crust.

If it’s store-bought? Just pop it in for 8–10 minutes. Light golden. Crisp edges.
Frozen? Give it 12. Maybe 15. Watch it like it owes you money.

Homemade? Freeze it first — 30 minutes. Then line with foil, fill with beans or rice (yes, dry rice), blind bake 15 minutes. Remove foil and weights. Poke the bottom with a fork (vents!). Bake 10 more.

Why all this? So your crust doesn’t slump. Nobody likes a sad, droopy crust.

Step 2: Wring Out Those Tomatoes (Yes, Really)

Cut tomatoes in half. Squeeze. Like you’re wringing out a wet sponge. Get all that juice out.
Chop ‘em up — you want about 3 cups.

Toss with salt. Dump in a colander. Let ‘em drain over a bowl while the crust bakes.
This is the most important step. Skip it? You’ll have tomato soup with a crust lid.

After 15–20 minutes, grab a paper towel. Squeeze again. Be aggressive. You’re not hurting them. You’re helping.

Step 3: Layer Like You Mean It

Onion first. Spread it over the warm crust.
Then tomatoes. Press ‘em in a little.
Basil on top. Sprinkle it like confetti.

This is your flavor base. Your foundation. Your pie’s personality.

Step 4: Make the Cheesy Mayo Magic

In a bowl, mix cheese, mayo, hot sauce, and a few cranks of black pepper.
That’s it. No milk. No eggs. No mystery.

Spoon it over the tomatoes. Spread gently. Don’t bury the basil. Let it peek through.

Step 5: Bake Until Golden & Happy

Into the oven. 25 to 45 minutes.
You’re looking for golden brown. Bubbling at the edges. A little crisp on top.

If it’s browning too fast? Tent with foil.
If it’s not browning enough? Crank the oven up 25 degrees for the last 10 minutes.

When it comes out — let it rest. 10 minutes. Not forever. Just enough so it doesn’t explode when you cut it.

Tips From My Kitchen (Because I’ve Burned Things)

• Caramelize the onions. Takes 20 extra minutes, but wow. Sweet, deep, rich. If you do, double the onion. It shrinks.
• Use a mix of tomato colors. Red, yellow, even purple. Looks gorgeous. Tastes more complex.
• Don’t skip the rest time. Cutting too soon = goo everywhere. Like, everywhere.
• No fresh basil? Dried works, but use 1 tsp. And add it to the cheese mix, not on top.
• Make it ahead: Assemble everything except baking. Cover, fridge overnight. Bake straight from cold — just add 5–10 minutes.

Leftovers? Yeah, Right. (But If You Have Any…)

Let’s be real. This gets eaten fast.
But if — if — there’s a slice left?

Wrap it tight. Fridge it. It’ll last 3–4 days.

Reheat in the oven at 325°F for 15 minutes. Keeps the crust crisp.
Microwave? Sure. But it’ll be soft. Like a memory.

Freezing? Not really. The mayo and tomatoes get weird. Just eat it. Or share. That’s better anyway.