1424 & 1426, 2011The sun today is triggering thoughts of summer and has me wanting what only summer can give. I would easily pay ten dollars for a small perfectly ripe tomato, fifteen if freshly plucked and still warm from the sun. Perfectly ripe, yes, but not perfectly round. I prefer my tomatoes misshapen. My knife would be sharp and gently pierce the skin, minimal juice drunk by the wood surface of my cutting board. Each slice would be carefully placed atop bread and butter of the best quality, or not at all. A tilt of the cutting board and scrape with the blade to collect any lost juice. To finish, the lightest dusting of my favorite fleur de sel, if only I could find another jar. Like tomatoes, salt is not salt. And then I'd give it all a long look, saving the visual aspects for later, to help recall the taste. I'd inhale the scent while taking my first bite. I would chew ever so slowly. I'd insist you take a bite.
If you believe in the power of memory, or want to be convinced, read Molly's poems, The Recent History Of Middle Sand Lake. Incredibly moving. Graceful, sad, and beautiful.
How can you possibly chew ever so slow? I would inhale :)
ReplyDeleteAfter this piece I insist a bite indeed :-) Your writing makes me smile, I truly hope you'll get some perfectly ripe misshapen ones very soon! Bisous!
ReplyDeletethere is nothing like that first taste of summer.
ReplyDeleteif you didn't insist, I would just have to snatch a bite!
our treasured tomatoes, unruly and ripe, are still about two months away....sigh. but, time moves along quickly.
Long a believer in the potency of memory, I look forward to reading Molly's work. Thanks Denise.
This description is pure bliss. Tomatoes, I'm now dreaming of you too. Thank you for the lovely reminder, Denise.
ReplyDeleteAnd now the wait...
ReplyDeleteI may never have had a tomato that good. It makes me wonder sadly whether my 40 years were misspent.
ReplyDeleteMise, I am convinced you will eat such a tomato this summer. Please report back.
ReplyDeleteSo nice of you to want to share. Cheers to a summer full of ripe tomatoes.
ReplyDeleteI think we're in for a good year. I've already cheated with a few hothouse tomatoes.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Danni.
it makes me wish i liked fresh tomatoes. beautiful
ReplyDeleteIt does, doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteMy tomato plants are ready to go in their pots and if we get enough continuing sun, I'd be happy to share at some juncture! With some olive oil, fresh ground pepper and perhaps a sliver of mozzarella? (the real stuff)
I'm off to soak in some Molly Sutton Kiefer....
Sounds delicious. I love a bite. xolj
ReplyDeleteI wonder how you can write so detail, interestingly. Beautifully written about tomatos.
ReplyDeleteI come to your blog when I want to relax and feel good inside. Your writing is so inspiring and it always give me such a calm feeling.
mmm the scent - how wonderful! the book looks interesting - i shall be seeking it out. hope the sun is still shining for you.
ReplyDeletecookiecrumb, Were the hothouse tomatoes good? I always think no no no. Perhaps I should give them a try.
ReplyDeletemosey, I would love to share a homegrown tomato with you and olive oil, fresh ground pepper, and mozzarella would be fine accompaniments. Just say the word. Sun, keep shining, please.
Here's to the sun shining and cheers to homegrown tomatoes.
ReplyDeletemine are always perfect-ly misshapen.
I think you would love them.
I love your wods and that beautiful door shot.
xo jane
We get them from the farmers market in Marin. Capay Valley, I think. Not great, a little watery. But I wouldn't kick thEm out of BLT.
ReplyDeleteYou are killing me! :)
ReplyDeletehow to dress up a tomato, that powerful memory tool, its sharp scent a trigger to memory gained or lost.
ReplyDeletefor a taste, you're only gonna have to wait till genova, no? ;)
the link you added hast just made me curl back upon myself. there is something about memory loss i find darkly fascinating, and worrying.
as if i already know. isn't that strange?
n♥
The scent of a sun-drenched tomatoes always takes me back to my childhood standing in the midst of the tomato plants in my father's garden.
ReplyDeleteSo pretty, Denise.
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of the delicious cherry tomatoes we get each summer from our garden. The store never sells tomatoes that taste as good.
oh gosh! now I want a tomato from my garden...and I haven't even planted them yet! sigh...Thanks for giving my memory a treat. I'll think of this when I take my first taste.
ReplyDeletewow - i didn´t know how much i missed tomatoes...
ReplyDeleteOh I know that feeling. We never have great tomatoes here at any time! I am going to put a greenhouse in my back yard next year. It is the only way I can really grow anything here. I wish so much I lived somewhere where the sun felt warm on my face. We have FINALLY had a few warm-ish days, but now it is pouring rain and chilly. Sigh! I know summer will come.
ReplyDeletewell, this post was incredibly beautiful. and you should definitely give 'dreams of speaking' a try, it's a great read.
ReplyDeleteoh, i would be ever so grateful that you shared a bite.
ReplyDeletel o v e l y !
And I would!
ReplyDeleteI can't wait for summer tomatoes. If only I could savor the ones from home...
This sounds pretty darn tasty. I have good memories of eating tomatoes on the porch with my grandpa. We would share the salt shaker and munch them like apples.
ReplyDeletei L O V E the writing on that door.
ReplyDeleteit's coming, tomato season. but waiting can be agony...
ReplyDeleteOh wow, this was like a poetry meal if that makes sense and I could see and taste everything. Good quality is hard to come by though but I'm still searching for that perfect tomato and the burst of flavour when I bite into it.
ReplyDeleteCan't. Wait. For. Summer.
ReplyDeleteI too would pay $15- for a warm-from-the-sun tomato. I would pay $20- for a tree ripened peach. True.
Love this post, Denise.
crap. now i want a tomato :)
ReplyDeletesoon. right? soon.
Misshapen tomatoes! Yes, I'm with you. Sadly, I have longer to wait to pick my own. (My own tomato crop lasted late into autumn.) I love best of all the smell of crushed tomato leaves in my palm. I cannot resist.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, we sure are getting a taste of it (summer) here this week, aren't we? Beautiful words -- there is anticipation and hope and longing in the air for me, too! I'm looking forward to checking out Molly's work. Thank you for the recommendation.
ReplyDeletei can taste it in your words. for me though, it would be cut with a piece of fresh mozzarella, good olive oil drizzled on top, and a large piece of fresh from the herb garden basil.
ReplyDeleteI've been reading Molly's blog for several years now...I would believe that her book is a gem.
Thanks, everyone!
ReplyDeleteNadine, It is fascinating and these poems are so moving.
Rachel, Molly's book is a gem.
ReplyDelete