I’ve got some more posts on tap, but I’m tired right now after dealing with our garage sale all day. I hear more and more stories about people losing tomatoes to the blight- including, horrifyingly, our immediate neighbor- but so far ours are soldiering on. To celebrate what might be an all-too-brief luxury, we’re diving into our pink brandywines every night for dinner, dressing them with just a bit of crunchy salt, olive oil, basil, and a twist of pepper. Milo and I had a tomato tasting before dinner, trying them with combinations of basil, thyme, soy sauce, with and without salt, etc., and he really got it; like most kids, he loves all things tomato, but the level of complex, decadent richness in perfect just-picked homegrown heirlooms registered with him in a profound way. It’s a taste he’ll never forget, and will be the baseline for everything else in the future.
Don’t let the light color fool you- they’re pink, but incredibly tasty. And our cucumbers are also luxuriating in the recent heat, so every day we have some of them to look forward to as well. I actually succession planted them in the hopes of extending pickle season a bit this time around. We’ll see if that actually works, but the pickles so far have been very good.
This evening these commingled with BBQ chicken legs, brown rice, pesto made with basil and frisée, and extra BBQ sauce on the side. Plus a 2008 Raffault Chinon rosé, which is on sale at a nearby place and for $12 will totally lap-dance with this kind of food. But, you know, in like a totally classy way.