Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Tomato, tomahto

Know how I know Mary Clare is my daughter? Girlfriend loves tomatoes. The other night she asked what we were having for dinner, and when I showed her the items above, she responded with a "YES!" complete with arm-pump action.

Chip thinks this is crazy.

I totally get it.

I love the damn things. Always have, always will. While my deep and abiding love no doubt stems from a childhood spent feasting on the top tomatoes from my parents' garden, I do not limit my consumption to three months out of the year. And Mary Clare is with me on this one. She will eat tomatoes in any shape, color or condition. Although I only serve sliced tomatoes as a side when they are fresh from the garden, we snarf grape tomatoes, yellow sunbursts and any decent-looking hydroponic wonders I find year-round.

The tomatoes in this picture are from the farmers' stand in Highland. They were good, but they were not Papa's garden good. Suffice it to say, Mary Clare and I are counting down the days until tomato time.

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