ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘tomato’

I’ve been working on my vegetable garden plans.

This must be done while sitting on the floor and wearing wool socks. I think it's a law. Aren't my socks cute? They're the first (and only) pair I ever made for myself. I made them right after Christmas and I think I was unduly influenced by a candy cane.

I already started the seeds. There are peppers, broccoli, and of course tomatoes. They are being guarded by a penguin and a Steelers jersey. I think they'll be safe.

A whole tray of tomato seedlings. They look so sweet and innocent now. Just wait until they grow up.

Anyone else getting their garden plans together?

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.

So far, I have eaten radishes plucked from my garden at the peak of readiness. I’ve sampled a few carrots and picked my first hot pepper. It was wonderfully hot. I have eaten so much fresh green lettuce that I can’t stand the sight of it anymore. I now grab full plants and pull them roughly from the ground. Then I sneak to the compost and throw them in. Die little suckers die! You are no longer welcome here.

I’m not sure what evil demon of nostalgia convinced me I needed a cornfield in my suburban backyard, but it’s doing well. The ears are just starting to fill out. Hopefully soon I’ll have some corn on the cob and corn stalks for Halloween decorations. It’s looking good.

The squash has finally decided to stop rotting on the vine and I should be cooking them up soon. I’m on my second harvest of broccoli, the cabbage is finally making heads, and three of the five potato buckets have been dumped out. This is all fine and good.

I made raspberry jam from the last of the raspberries and blackberry jam from the first of the blackberries. There are also four pints of plum sauce in my pantry. This makes me happy.

But those of you that know me best, and love me in spite of it, know that all of this is just a means of occupying myself until my true passion can be fulfilled. Yes, today is the day. The day of the fresh ripe tomato. I’m slightly overcome with emotion right now, but don’t fear. I found the corkscrew and I bought a bottle of Merlot with a chicken on it for the occasion. Life is good.