We have a massive crop of tomatoes this year. Picking them is no problem. Eating them is more of a challenge. Fortunately I love tomatoes in almost any form: as Gazpacho, in salad, when fried (preferably with cheese), even grilled, and in some cases baked on top of a pizza.
Even so, there is still a risk that tomatoes every day will not keep boredom at bay, so some will be given away.
I’ll stop the rhymes now – feeling a bit dizzy.
I could make some chutney as well, I suppose. We’ve got some grotesque obstinately green tomatoes on another plant that look as though that would be the only option. Ever since my marmalade and meditation moment I have become a bit of a dab-hand at making pickle, but I’ve not had the chance so far at using tomatoes for that purpose. This could be the time!
The huge advantage of home-grown is that they taste like tomatoes used to taste when I was a child. Nowadays, if I were blindfolded and presented with a plate of supermarket fodder, the chances are I couldn’t tell a tomato from a cucumber by taste. The texture might give it away so they’d both have to go through a blender, of course, to make it a fair test.
As I was picking some the other day it occurred to me that the way I was deciding which to pick contradicted all my driving and pedestrian instincts. On the road, when the lights are red you stop, if amber you wait and on green you go.
Not so when you are picking tomatoes. If it’s green you stop picking and leave it completely alone. On amber, you might hold on a moment to decide if it’s on the green or red side of orange. Only if it’s red do you blast on regardless and stick it in your bowl.
I’d better make sure I don’t take my garden habits out onto the road.