This is the story of clafouti. And that story has to start in France.

You see, growing up in California, I attended an elementary school that was taught entirely in French, and entirely according to the French curriculum. We had an hour of English instruction a day (for our “foreign language”) and we learned the history of France. I still do my subtraction and long-division with a slightly different setup than my American compatriots.

As you can imagine, many of my fellow students were French themselves — children of visiting diplomats or business people.

This is how I found myself at the age of 9 in Lyon, visiting a friend from school for two weeks.

Sadly, I don’t remember much from this city except for a rather large hill with a spectacular view of gray stone buildings extending out for miles. I remember it was quite hot while I was visiting. I remember reading French comic books (my favorite was Gaston LaGaffe) in the concrete courtyard behind my friend’s house for hours.

I remember clafouti.

Served warm after long lunches, this pudding-meets-pancake was studded with dark red cherries, their juices bleeding into the pale dough around them. The cherries weren’t pitted, which I have since learned is done on purpose to infuse the dessert with a subtle almond flavor leeched from the pits.

At the age of 9, pitting fruit is a great excuse to play with your food at the table, and when we ate outside (which was every day) we could spit the seeds wherever we liked. The top of the clafouti was crackly and brown with melted sugar, giving way to the deep red cherry pockets.

Clafouti is a country dessert — incredibly easy to throw together, flexible enough to be made with just about any berry or stone fruit, and delicious at nearly any temperature. In the years since Lyon, it has become one of my go-to recipes for any fruit I need to use up or when I need to bring a sweet to a picnic (it travels really well and there’s no danger of melting or spoilage or icing going everywhere). I’ve made it with cherries, blueberries and plums.

I had never thought to make a savory clafouti.

I was immediately taken in by a recipe for cherry tomato clafoutis in the latest issue of Vegetarian Times. I wanted to smack my forehead: what a simple substitution, to swap cherries for cherry tomatoes! Swap out the sugar for some parmesan cheese, and I couldn’t resist.

I bought a quart of cherry tomatoes at the farmers market, their bright red and yellow skins mounded in pale-green cardboard containers, straining to keep their marvelous, summery seeds contained within.

I received a very large handful of basil in my farm share this week. I always keep pine nuts and parmesan cheese in my pantry. All the pieces were falling into place.

I invited some friends over for a summer meal and served these mini tomato clafoutis as the main course. They were a hit — light and flavorful, with the cherry tomatoes slightly roasted and incredibly sweet and juicy, the parmesan and basil heightening the tomatoes’ sweetness, and the crunch of the pine nut providing a nice counter point to the soft pudding of the clafouti.

These little cakes are like soufflés without the stress; watch them puff and pillow in the oven, and then let them fall and settle for some time after they come out. They get a wonderful, custardy, almost quiche-like consistency once they fall.

Feel free to play with the herbs here (the original recipe called for thyme, and I think tarragon, oregano or rosemary would all work nicely, too). Also, garlic would add a nice bite so you might want to add some minced garlic into the batter. These would make a great contribution to a picnic or potluck.

Eating them, I was reminded of summertime in Lyon, spitting cherry pits into the corner of the courtyard, and waiting for the next chapter in Tin Tin’s mystery adventures.

Mini Cherry Tomato Clafoutis

Adapted from Vegetarian Times

• 3 eggs

• 1/3 c. flour

• 1 ½ c. 2 percent milk

• 3 Tbsp fat-free sour cream

• 2 Tbsp chopped basil

• ½ tsp. salt

• ¼ tsp. pepper

• 24 cherry tomatoes (about a pint), halved

• 2 Tbsp pine nuts

• 2 Tbsp grated parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 375. Butter a 12-muffin tin.

In a bowl, whisk together the eggs and flour. Add the milk and sour cream and whisk until smooth. Add the basil, salt and pepper, and stir to combine.

Pour half the batter, evenly divided, into the bottom of the muffin tins. Bake for 10 minutes.

After 10 minutes, take the tin out of the oven. Put four cherry tomato halves, cut side down, into each tin. Divide the remaining batter evenly over the 12 clafoutis. Top each custard with a sprinkle of pine nuts and parmesan cheese.

Put the tin back in the oven, and bake for an additional 22 minutes. The house will start to smell quite delicious, and these little guys will rise and puff quite nicely. After 22 minutes, remove them from the oven and let them rest. They will cave in on themselves a bit, but that just makes their insides quite rich and dense.

Serve warm or room temperature. These also make dynamite leftovers the next day, cold out of the refrigerator.