Ode to the Tomato

I developed a taste for fresh vegetables at an early age. Unlike many children, I had a penchant for the sunbathed vegetables grown in our backyard. I relished in the sweet but tangy flavor of baby spinach leaves. You know, the ones that you pinch from the garden as you casually walk by. But, my favorite was the tomato. There is something undeniably blissful in biting into a big meaty tomato- straight off the vine and into the mouth. Then there is the smell that comes along with it. One of my favorite smells is that grassy warm aroma found at the top of a garden fresh tomato. When you breathe in that scent, it is confirmed that you are in the throws of Summer.



Growing up in a coastal town of NJ, we always had a garden it is the Garden State, after all. Together as a family we'd weed, turn over the soil and rake it into tiny rows. My sister and I would create little hollowed out mounds before placing a seedling in. We'd be sent out just about ever day to check on the plants, to see if they needed watering. After cutting the grass we'd sprinkle the fresh clippings around our young plants to help hold in the soil's moisture and block out any weeds from growing.

Before sitting down to dinner an oh-so-common request to "go to the back and get some chives" would be asked. In the middle of the day I'd be sent to get sprigs of mint for the iced tea my mother would brew. While gathering the herbs, my sister and I would be told to check on the tomatoes- to see if any were ripe. "ALMOST!!" we'd yell as we ran back to the house. But, when we saw that deep luscious red, not orange or the faint red seen in store bought tomatoes, one of us would go in and palm the ripe fruit. With a gentle twist the tomato would release from the vine and then we'd hold it up to the sky like a trophy. Ah, the glory of picking a ripe tomato.

Sometimes, in the supermarket, I lift a tomato to my nose to see if the smells of Summer are hiding there. Usually it just smells cold. I pick through the bunches to find the rich red of a ripe tomato, but my fingers stumble over the flat blush pink I have to choose from. Waiting is not my strength, but at least now it is May and my tomato seedlings are showing promise. In a few months I will be running into my house yelling "ALMOST!!" even if no one is there to hear it.