“I picked a tomato
Right and ripe
I’m going to eat it
All up tonight.”
– composed by my eldest daughter at 4 years old.
There is nothing… NOTHING like a tomato from the garden. I have been dutifully tending three pots of tomatoes in my little backyard. An Early Girl variety, Sweet 100 and some sort of Roma whose name I’ve now forgotten.
It has been so gratifying to harvest them – though I have to guard carefully against my 2 year-old wantonly picking the green and orange ones (see photo, above on the right).
Delicious in salads, of course. Succulent right off the vine at the moment I pick them.
Tonight, I quickly pan-roasted a steak in olive oil with a Peppercorn-Garlic Rub, sliced it and toasted some sourdough bread (brought from San Francisco by a dear friend). Using the fond left in the pan, I tossed a handful of the whole Sweet 100s and sauteed until they were soft and slightly falling apart. After smearing blue cheese on the tangy, toasted bread, I slicked on the glossy, roasted tomatoes like jam, topped with steak and lettuce and my hubby and I ate the sandwiches with a glass of pinot noir.