Each May, Fiona lines the walkway to our house with huge clay pots, six on each side. They are filled to the brim with strong-smelling dark soil, and in the center of each sits one tiny green plant. Half are Sun Golds, and the other half Super Sweet 100s. They are disproportionately small, dwarfed by the large, burnt-red containers. In each pot is a large, cone-shaped, fence-like structure that reaches about 5 feet tall. It is an odd sight.

Droughts be damned! Fiona waters every day and watches them slowly grow. She carefully guides the branches of each plant up through the rungs of the cone fences as they get thicker, stronger, and heavier. By early July, the once diminutive plants are more than 6 feet tall, and finally each one begins to flower. A few days later fruit starts to appear. In a month we’ll have cherry tomatoes, and that’s about all we’ll eat until they are gone.

Making what the French call tartines — little, open-faced sandwiches of toasted bread with various toppings — provides the perfect vehicle for cherry tomatoes. The Sun Golds are super-sweet with a hint of acid, and the Super Sweet 100s tend to be milder and less sweet (ironically) and have good balance. Cooking them very lightly concentrates their flavor while preserving the natural, fresh taste of the tomato. (Note: Not growing your own? Your local farm stand has plenty to choose from, and store-bought cherry tomatoes will do the trick, too.) Start with extra virgin olive oil, but heat it very gently because it burns easily. Add the tomatoes with some chopped garlic in one layer and let them cook, stirring occasionally, until their skins begin to shrivel slightly and one or two of them pop and let go of their juicy interiors. Turn off the heat and add lemon zest and oil-cured olives. Lightly fold the mixture together and make the tartines by spooning the mixture onto sliced toasted or grilled French baguette. Adding a little dollop of the Provençal sauce called anchoïade to the top of each tomato tartine will make you think you’ve landed on the southern coast of France.

I often think of the open-air market in Nice, where we lived when we were first married and where anchoïade (anchovies and garlic) is sold in pots alongside pistouade (think basil pesto) and tapenade (olives and garlic). Used as a dip for raw vegetables, stirred into pasta dishes, or perhaps added to a leg of lamb, anchoïade is one of the most assertive of Provençal tastes. Anchovy fillets, garlic, and olive oil are crushed in a mortar and pestle until they become puree. I like to add chives and a tiny bit of butter for enhanced flavor and a smoother consistency. With each bite, the tartine is crunchy and bursting with garlicky tomato sweetness, and the anchoïade adds wonderful, fishy saltiness. It is a combination that, for me, defines the season.

I say with a smile that I’m married to a farmer, and it always raises eyebrows from our real farmer friends. No matter. Fiona does grow wonderful cherry tomatoes. Paired with simple, classic Niçoise flavors, they remind us that the beauty of summer cooking is its simplicity. See if you don’t agree.

Gordon Hamersley can be reached at cookingwithgordonhamersley@gmail .com