It’s here.
The season Dean’s been dreading.
The tomatoes have arrived.
And when I say “arrived,” I mean they’ve taken over.
We have a bunch of volunteer plants this year, and it seems every last one of them decided to be cherry tomatoes. Add those to the currant tomatoes, the Romas, and the San Marzanos we actually planted, and, well… we’re surrounded.
Buckets. Bowls. Countertops. Every flat surface is covered with tomatoes. And it seems the fruit flies are fans.
Dean keeps walking through the kitchen muttering, “We’ve lost control.”
He’s not wrong.
The Volunteers
I know everyone loves cherry tomatoes. I want to love them, and I keep trying to love them, but they’re just not my favorite. Dean hates raw tomatoes, and I think cherry tomatoes turn out too seedy and sweet when they’re cooked. That said, I did make a few batches of cherry tomato sauce and I wasn’t kickin’ ’em out of bed for eating crackers.
The Harvest
Today, I left a box of Romas and a bucket of cherry tomatoes at the end of the driveway. Gone in the afternoon.
I’ve taken several runs to the little food pantry at the library. Also gone within hours, each time. It makes me ridiculously happy to see them disappear into the world.
The Reality
We’re still buried.
There are tomatoes on every surface, more ripening on the vines, and I’ve made batches of tomato sauce. The vacuum sealer is working overtime. I tried my hand at tomato jam: I have to say it was pretty good. You know what’s a surprisingly good sandwich? Whole wheat bread, tomato jam, tofu, cucumbers, and spinach. A little hot pepper plays along nicely too.
When it comes down to it, this is one of those payoffs for every weed pulled and every bug battled.
We grew this.
All of it.
I’m really happy about it.
Even if Dean’s upstairs Googling “how to fake a tomato allergy.”
