I enjoy a good meal although I’m not sure I’d call myself a foodie. Maybe I am, who knows. What I do know is, I don’t often wax poetic about what I’ve eaten in restaurants, or cooked, in this blog. Having said that I do remember going into raptures about a peach back in 2012.
Much as I hate to acknowledge that summer’s coming to a close, I know it is; and it has nothing to do with the fact that the days are starting to get shorter. It has nothing to do with all the back-to-school advertising. Or the fact that Toronto’s CNE (Canadian National Exhibition) opened yesterday.
It’s because yesterday, my cleaning lady brought me a paper bag filled with beautiful, sun-ripened tomatoes from her garden. She does it every year at this time. It is an end of summer ritual. And end of summer, means beginning of fall. I love the tomatoes. I love the fall. It’s winter I’m not crazy about, but I’m getting way ahead of myself here. So let’s get back to the food most people call a vegetable but is, in fact, a fruit: The tomato.
I have a love/hate relationship with tomatoes. I don’t like most of the tomatoes available in grocery stores — even high end ‘epicure’ shops. They look beautiful. It’s nice to see all the different varieties, colours, shapes and sizes. But you get them home and they’re tasteless.
So disappointing, because when a tomato’s at its peak there’s nothing more delicious. Which is why I love when my cleaning lady brings me samples from her Continue reading