Tomato Angst...

Summer equals bounty, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables.  But I am disappointed in the tomatoes I bought at the farmers market in New York last week.  They needed to ripen up so up on the windowsill they went.  It has been a week.  Instead of ripening, they just have started to melt.  Well, not melt exactly, but they have gotten mushy, bad spots on them.  And they are still a bit on the hard side in general.  I guess I will just cut around the bad spots when I throw together the salad tonight.

What happened to the tomatoes of my childhood?  I can remember having them still warm off the vine with a little salt and pepper…summer heaven.  It has been years since I have gotten the same delight out of a fresh tomato.  Is it something I’m doing or are tomatoes just different?

I imagine that it is a little of both.  Tomatoes aren’t the same.  I am not the same.

  Heck, the world is not the same.

Tomorrow, I am on my way back to Ohio for my 40^th class reunion.  I never thought this day would come.  How did I get so old?  I imagine that many of the people who have decided to attend are wondering what the others will think about the way they turned out.  I’m not all that concerned about what the others think.  I am sure that we all had hopes and dreams that didn’t come to fruition, in spite of our successes.  Some of us have gotten fat, some have gone bald, and some of us might look pretty much the same on the outside, but have not had such good things happening on the inside.  Like the damn tomatoes on my windowsill, all of our lives have had mushy, bad spots whether or not we want to admit to them.  But I guess I am grateful that bad spots and all, we are able to get together for a few hours, laugh and share some old stories…and, knowing my class, share a few cocktails.

While I have been sorely disappointed with the tomatoes in my life lately, I have been thrilled over the cherries and the radishes.  And I’ve never known an onion that disappoints.

Not complaining about the fennel either...