![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
senoritafish....homegrown tomatoes. SO brought in some from her patch that I believe must be an heirloom variety. Perfectly round yellow spheres with a blush of pink around the stem end and only slightly larger than a cherry tomato, they explode on your tongue ( and would not be confined within your teeth if you didn't keep your lips firmly clenched shut) with such an end-of-summer sweetness, almost a poignancy, it would be a sin to call them a vegetable.
When I popped one in my mouth prior to my morning java, it's a good thing there was no one else in the breakroom or the adjacent hallway. The noises evoked by such a tomato-ey savor are normally reserved for more intimate occasions.
I heard Garrison Keillor say once that homegrown tomatoes are a heavenly gift, and "those little hard, round, red things they strip mine down in Texas and sell at the grocery store are as nothing compared with them." Well, he's a Minnesotan, and as such, is slightly biased where the warmer states are concerned, but in this case I'm afraid he's right. If it makes any Texas residents feel any better, I don't think he would cut commercially grown California tomatoes any slack either. However, I think in the same story he mentions having pick tomatoes with his sister as a kid, and on discovering a particularly overripe and wormy one, finding her bent-over keester a row in front of him an irresistible target.
And so I go from the sublime to the ridiculous. Typical.
When I popped one in my mouth prior to my morning java, it's a good thing there was no one else in the breakroom or the adjacent hallway. The noises evoked by such a tomato-ey savor are normally reserved for more intimate occasions.
I heard Garrison Keillor say once that homegrown tomatoes are a heavenly gift, and "those little hard, round, red things they strip mine down in Texas and sell at the grocery store are as nothing compared with them." Well, he's a Minnesotan, and as such, is slightly biased where the warmer states are concerned, but in this case I'm afraid he's right. If it makes any Texas residents feel any better, I don't think he would cut commercially grown California tomatoes any slack either. However, I think in the same story he mentions having pick tomatoes with his sister as a kid, and on discovering a particularly overripe and wormy one, finding her bent-over keester a row in front of him an irresistible target.
And so I go from the sublime to the ridiculous. Typical.
