Friday, July 16, 2010

Red ripe tomatoes

Mr Louis Armstrong might not have wanted them - what is frim fram sauce? - but I did!

There's a little nick in the cardboard cup, that's because I carried it up the ladder in my teeth. Needed my hands.

Hm Hm Hm

These cherry tomatoes are a whole other story from last year's. Same tomatoes, offspring of, in fact. But they are sweeeeeeeeeet. I imagine it's the all-day blazing sun, and slight water stress. Last year's plant had half the sun and more water. I now have four of the Mexican heirlooms, plus the yellow pear and black cherry, which is nowhere near ripe

I was supposed to sell my crop. I know. Don't tell the owners of Brooklyn. I might still be thrown out of the Borough. I ate them myself. Well, Vince helped. Our carbon tomato print was tiny. They traveled about fifteen feet sideways, eight feet down and another fifteen back into the apartment. I used legal labour to harvest, and then paired them with totally imported buffalo mozzarella and basil from six feet to my left. Let's not talk about the French salt, Madagascan pepper and Italian olive oil.

You know what I miss? South African olive oil. It's very, very good.

It was a very happy plate of food with high levels of satisfaction.

The farm is not quite a month old. It was planted on June 19th. Things Grow.

I figure I can supply an elite CSA of two members every two weeks.
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