Tomato time

Summer is tomato time.

I will not eat a tomato out of season. Consider the February tomato: could any food be as sad? Hard, mealy and pale, flavorless and forlorn, a tomato in winter hardly deserves the name. More than berries, more than peaches, tomatoes are the fruit I long for during the cold months.

A ripe tomato fresh from the vine bears  no more resemblance to its insipid supermarket cousin than does a chicken nugget to a whole roasted, free-range bird. Its flesh bright and yielding, its fragrance as intoxicating as any flower, its juices filling your mouth with tangy sweetness, a real tomato is the stuff of fantasy – and for me, an object of worshipful devotion.

It’s worth the wait.

No uniform ripening gene here!
Just-picked cherry tomatoes at Songhaven farm

Dinner for one: homemade bread, mayonnaise, sharp cheddar, tomatoes

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2 thoughts on “Tomato time

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