tomatomania

This is a for-real heirloom tomato I purchased at the farmer's market. We named it Zipper Butt.

I walk out onto my balcony every day to tell my tomatoes I love them. This is my first foray into gardening. Well, at least gardening anything

that will be ingested. On occasion I’ve helped my mom with her garden and I think I have either partially or fully ruined it each time. Consequently, I’ve developed a fear of cultivating my own crops. It’s too daunting. There’s so much to know, so much work involved. But I’ve also grown uncomfortable with our society’s current means of acquiring food.

Back when we were cave men, or even after we had evolved into an agricultural society, most of our time revolved around food production. Planting the wheat, tending to it, harvesting it, grinding it and baking it so that we could eat the bread and fill our bellies. Now we sit in cubicle farms all day entering data or answering phones so that we can go to the store and buy the bread to fill our bellies. At the end of the day so much of life revolves around keeping that little cavity in our abdomen satisfied.

I live in Los Angeles where the threat of a natural or unnatural disaster is a very real possibility. I keep thinking about what would happen to us if we couldn’t run to the market when we needed food. Most of our grandparents, and even our parents, knew how to cultivate food. Many in my generation are clueless. It’s got me a little nervous. In addition to the disconnect from our food source, let’s think about how much packaging ends up in our land fills every day because of our current system for filling our bellies. Seriously. Pay attention for just one day to how much trash goes into your can as you prepare and consume food.  These things have been weighing on my mind lately, so when I saw tomato plants in Costco last week, I purchased one. It makes me a little nervous to try to grow it, but I’m caring for it the best I can and eagerly anticipate enjoying (quite literally) the fruits of my labors.

When my sister was in her collegiate years, she went through a cute little bohemian phase. I recall going to her apartment one day. It was a very charming little place. She lived in an old mansion in Salt Lake City that had been converted into apartments. My sister was quite the little plant whisperer back then. She must have had at least a hundred plants in her teeny apartment. They covered every possible space, and even hung in front of batik-covered walls in little macrame plant hangers (which -in true hippy form- she probably crocheted herself). One day we were discussing her plants over dinner and she told me in all seriousness that the secret to raising such a thriving crop was love. She was always sending her flora an abundance of love. “And,” she added, “they love me back. Sometimes when I walk in the door I can just feel how excited they are that I’m home.”

I’m hoping that an an outpouring of love for my tomatoes will counter my lack of experience or knowledge. I’m trying not to let them know I’m nervous about them because fear and love might counter one another. I really want them to thrive and I want to venture into more horticultural experiences and reduce my dependency on the supermarket. I found five new little tomato buds on my plant today and I positively beamed with delight. I hope they felt it and grew ever more nutritious and delicious because of it.

Pray for us. Or even send my tomatoes some love through the universe. Here’s hoping The Beatles were right when they said all you need is love.

Btw, my sister grew into a lovely -and normal- adult. She has a beautiful home, with just the right number of plants. She still sends them her love, but her husband and children are also now the lucky recipients of it.

My new favorite tomato recipe:

Grilled Brie and Tomato on Crusty Bread

Ingredients

• 1 pint cherry tomatoes
• 1 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
• unsalted butter, softened
• 6 (1/2-inch thick) slices crusty bread
• 1/2 pound brie, sliced thin

Directions

Heat the broiler. Put the cherry tomatoes onto a baking sheet, drizzle them with olive oil, and season with salt and pepper. Broil them until they burst; set them aside.

Butter the bread on both sides and top each with several slices of brie. Broil until the cheese is bubbling and slightly browned. Top with the tomatoes. Serve with some soup or salad or just eat it all by itself for a light meal (and by light I’m not talking caloric).

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