There are few acts of optimism quite like planting a tomato in the Mid-Atlantic summer. After an unusually harsh winter, this spring brought so much optimism that 9 different varieties of tomatoes were planted in the home plot: Red Krim, Midnight Snack, Chocolate Sprinkles, Pineapple (a real beauty), Purple Cherokee, Sunrise Bumblebee, Yellow Pear, Lemon Boy, and Big Zac, more on him later.
The process begins with sentimental purpose. Take a delicate little green plant, lovingly secure it in the ground sometime in May, surround it with straw and a wire cage to give it a foundation to climb and weave around, and then begin imagining August. Not the actual August. The imaginary August.
In imaginary August, the garden is lush. The tomatoes are perfectly ripe. Take a stroll outside in a crisp linen apron carrying a charming wicker basket, gently pluck a warm Purple Cherokee from the vine, carry it into the kitchen, slice it, sprinkle it with flaky salt and drizzle it with olive oil. Summer perfection.
Actual August is somewhat different. It is 94 degrees; a swampy, humidified, still air drapes over the plot. Squadrons of mosquitoes buzz around. Tomato plants are growing in fits and starts, not enough blossoms, then too many at once. First a drought; Mother Nature decided the usual degree of tomato growing difficulty wasn't sufficient. Tomatoes do not appreciate this. Then followed weeks of heat. Broiler-style unrelenting, recalcitrant heat. And then the rains came; Lord, did it rain- monsoonish bucketsful, the opposite of a gentle soaking. Tomatoes absolutely do not appreciate enormous drinks of water. When a tomato growing slowly under dry conditions suddenly gets an enormous drink of water and expands faster than its skin can accommodate, it will split and crack.
Time to go on offense. Water deeply. Water consistently. Create ample airflow. And mulch.
Suddenly real and imaginary August merge. A tomato miracle! The tomatoes have heroically survived and flourished. The garden has moved beyond "Finally! How wonderful, tomatoes!" and entered the "Dear God, what are we going to do with all these tomatoes?" phase.
Tomato burrata salad. Caponata. Salsa. Gazpacho. Tomato jam. Olive oil cured tomatoes. Tomato sauce. Tomato-basil soup. Haul the tomatoes to the neighbors, stealthily depositing them on front porches. Leave tomatoes anonymously on coworkers' desks. Set up a little table at the end of the winding driveway: “free tomatoes to a good home”.
So. Many. Tomatoes. Why bother? Because sometimes in the frigid dark January days, an urge will come over. “Gee, I can’t wait for a nice juicy summer tomato”.
Big Zac, weighing in at over a pound. Thanks, big fella. You were delicious.
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About the Author: Chef Mary Howley
Chef Mary Howley is a former Executive Chef of her own catering company, several privately owned country clubs, and fine dining restaurants. She has studied throughout Europe and honed her skills working with a myriad of culinary styles and foods. At RCS, she is the resident culinary consultant providing guidance on menu engineering, overall food & beverage management, back of house operations, and training. She had the honor to serve as research and development chef for Food Unlimited, and held the position of Pastry Chef in two James Beard Dinner Events. Mary has a Bachelor of Arts degree from the Maryland Institute, is a Certified Professional Food Service Manager, a certified TIPS trainer, and a member of the Women Chefs & Restaurateurs Association. Mary is passionate about cross-utilization, seasonality, sustainability, and the precious connection between people and food.
