I picked the first tomato from my own plants today, and it was a beauty (in its own ugly way). I admit, I have no idea when you’re supposed to pick tomatoes. This one turned red about a week ago, or, rather, a strange shade of pink (it’s a Caspian pink, after all). Still, I kept arguing with myself. Maybe it would get redder? Would another day make it even more delicious? Are the woodland creatures closing in? How high can a woodchuck jump, anyway?
But, nothing ends my internal debates quite so abruptly as a faint twinge of hunger. So, off it came. I sliced it up with fresh mozzarella and ribbons of local basil and drizzled it with the usual non-local stuff (olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper). There really wasn’t any need to reinvent the wheel.
Is there anything better than this?
Well, maybe the corn. Oh Lordy…the corn. Drumlin Farm, I hereby declare your cobs to be worth every worm.