A bowlful of tomatoes
Last spring, I planted a couple of San Marzano tomato plants in order to have tomatoes for sauce and preserving. As a result, for the past month — and my husband, Brian, will attest to this — I’ve been canning small batches of tomatoes about twice a week. My cupboards are quickly turning red with jar after jar of tomatoes in all forms, crushed, sauced and salsa-ed.
Unfortunately, being up to my elbows in tomatoes means that I’ve also avoided eating them raw, a delightful form if you have the right tomato. Those San Marzanos are not the right kind of tomato — they’re all dry and icky if you try to eat them raw — but a few pink brandywines that have finally matured on my vines are spot on for eating fresh.

The other day, as I looked at my vegetable basket I noticed that I’d been saving my nice slicing tomatoes since they’re not quite right for sauce. However, since I’ve seen pounds and pounds of tomatoes lately, I’ve been feeling a bit tomatoed-out and pretty soon my gorgeous tomatoes would be rotten tomatoes. It was time to eat them.
It took that guilt of impending waste and rot for me to slice into one of my gorgeous big tomatoes last night. In years past I’ve eaten raw tomatoes and tomato sandwiches until I swear I’m about 1/2 tomato. This year, though, I grew fewer slicers and just haven’t been partaking like normal.
After making a simple salad — I’ll call it tomato-guilt salad — I’m pretty sure I’ll be eating more of my nice, big honking tomatoes.
I sliced a couple of tomatoes really thinly, sprinkled them with a bit of sea salt, and drizzled them lightly with my best extra virgin olive oil and a few drips of some sweet balsamic vinegar. A couple of kalamata olives finished out the salad quite nicely.
On a warm afternoon, the salad really hit the spot. It’s September and that means it’s time to savor the ephemeral beauty of these fresh tomatoes.













2 Comments