Does it make me a little sad, a little wistful? Yes, especially when I dwell on thoughts that include the word “end.”
But it does make me feel better, or at least more neutral and accepting of what is right now, when I remember that without this tomato-free time, the joy of the taste of the first tomato of the season would never arise, and the ripe sensual delights of the main crop of tomatoes would not exist. Most of the amazing recipes that have come down through the centuries as cooks (everyday geniuses) tried to creatively use up the overflow, well, those would have never been invented.
“Tomato” would be an everyday taste, not a luxurious seasonal delicacy born of the long, hot days of summer.
Seasonal eating has brought such joy to my perception of food. And also a much-needed Zenlike acceptance of the ebb and flow of nature’s bounty. It really is wonderful that some treats are provided just long enough for the palate to become totally bored of them, as I honestly feel about the cherry tomato at this moment.
I ripped up all the cherry tomato plants but one yesterday, and felt I’d done a good deed for our kitchen.
Truthfully, I’m ready to move on to something else. The spicy scent of radish that rose up as I thinned more seedlings this morning gave me a hint of where the seasonal palate is moving next.
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Most friends who grew tomatoes report getting a little weary of them by the end of the season. I never felt that I got enough!
Come have a few of ours! Seriously, have some cherry tomatoes….
Oh if you were only still in Atlanta…
Sometimes I say the same thing, Lynn