Fresh Ripe Tomato Fetish, No More

audio I’m not sure when it happened. It wasn’t gradual but it didn’t happen all at once. Passion turned to desire. Desire turned to complacence. Complacence turned into to what I have now. I think it’s called… actually, I have no idea what it’s called.

Let’s face it. A fresh ripe tomato is nothing more than a fresh ripe tomato. It hasn’t been around long enough for seasoning. There might be slight variations in color, texture, or size but nothing remarkable. A tomato has to be around for awhile to become remarkable. It has to be simmered and seasoned, and stirred. Time changes the tomato. Experience makes the tomato more interesting.

I don’t want my tomato sitting there looking sweet and ripe but unable to express it’s true desires. Half the time they don’t even know what their true desires are. They think it has to do with their stem. You also have to handle them gently or they’ll bruise. I don’t want a tomato that needs to be handled gently. I want a tomato that sits on the counter, looks me in the eye and says I am Lasagna! Stuff me between noodles! I want my tomato to know what it wants and make me want it too. Actually, I don’t want a tomato at all. I want cheese.

Extra sharp aged cheddar. The kind that is so rich and flavorful that it melts on your tongue and leaves you wanting, if not begging, for more. Put it on crackers or sprinkle it on a salad. Serve it with grapes and wine. Perfectly aged cheddar is the ultimate in culinary experiences. It knows what you like and it gives it to you. It takes years to age cheddar to perfection and that is time well spent.

Tags: tomato