Posted 11:34 pm Sunday, July 29, 2012
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You Say Tomatoes, I Say Yum, Yum!
It is that special time of year again when tomatoes are at their peak in every possible regard. For those of us who see this in spiritual terms, it could even involve a temporary change in citizenship. For instance, I live in the southerly area of Tyler and Smith County.
However, due to the sheer number of tomatoes I consume from Jacksonville, I may as well be a denizen of that town and Cherokee County if I were strictly gauged by the amount of lycopene in my system from the place.
Why the tomatoes from down there are the yummiest is no easier nor necessary to explain than why the onions from Noonday are so sweet and delicious.
What made me think of all of this? Well, the other night Elizabeth was making a beautiful salad for dinner with three or four different kinds of lettuce and some perfectly ripened tomatoes and avocado — all topped off with my favorite combination of salad dressings — first a thin coating of Green Goddess, which is then dusted off with a nod or two of Newman's balsamic vinaigrette. Don't knock it 'til you try it.
When time came to cut the tomatoes, I was reminded of my love affair with the fruit because I saw a few of my special tomato knives in the knife drawer (don't ask).
A tomato knife is a knife made to cut tomatoes, and that's it. Such specialty items can be found in better stores around the globe and not all tomato knives are created equally. For instance, at least two of my prized tomato knives are from London. Yes England.
It's my grandfather's fault. He trained me in the importance of owning something so specialized, much like the training Yoda gave young Luke Skywalker in the use of his lightsaber. I don't recall them slicing tomatoes with the lightsaber, but I'll bet it would have given a Ginsu knife a run for its money.
However, due to the sheer number of tomatoes I consume from Jacksonville, I may as well be a denizen of that town and Cherokee County if I were strictly gauged by the amount of lycopene in my system from the place.
Why the tomatoes from down there are the yummiest is no easier nor necessary to explain than why the onions from Noonday are so sweet and delicious.
What made me think of all of this? Well, the other night Elizabeth was making a beautiful salad for dinner with three or four different kinds of lettuce and some perfectly ripened tomatoes and avocado — all topped off with my favorite combination of salad dressings — first a thin coating of Green Goddess, which is then dusted off with a nod or two of Newman's balsamic vinaigrette. Don't knock it 'til you try it.
When time came to cut the tomatoes, I was reminded of my love affair with the fruit because I saw a few of my special tomato knives in the knife drawer (don't ask).
A tomato knife is a knife made to cut tomatoes, and that's it. Such specialty items can be found in better stores around the globe and not all tomato knives are created equally. For instance, at least two of my prized tomato knives are from London. Yes England.
It's my grandfather's fault. He trained me in the importance of owning something so specialized, much like the training Yoda gave young Luke Skywalker in the use of his lightsaber. I don't recall them slicing tomatoes with the lightsaber, but I'll bet it would have given a Ginsu knife a run for its money.
We went to England in 2001 with my grandparents and one of the highlights of the trip (in addition to the Tower of London and the Cabinet War room) was a jaunt to the world-renowned Harrod's department store and it's very capable competitor Selfridge's in search of tomato knives.
My grandfather and I each bought a handful for ourselves and friends and I'm pretty sure he bought some Lea & Perrins (the recipe is different over there) for the trip home.
To this day, it continues to give me joy to present a tomato to such a well-designed adversary for its eventual trip to my tummy.
Some members of my family (me particularly) like their tomatoes peeled, then sliced or diced. For such an exercise I own a small knife with a perfectly serrated edge and blade thickness to perform this exercise with a precision that renders the fruit skin-free but still substantially whole.
If I come home to a meal with peeled tomatoes I know my wife is either trying to tell me she loves me very dearly (she doesn't really see the need to go to this extra step so it is truly a labor of love, or it may even harken to my premise a few weeks ago on “Help me, help you, help me”) or wants something dearly enough to have gone to the trouble to peel the suckers.
There is only one person I can recall giving one of my prized knives to and she was a resident of Jacksonville. I feel certain she used it again and again.
My grandfather and I each bought a handful for ourselves and friends and I'm pretty sure he bought some Lea & Perrins (the recipe is different over there) for the trip home.
To this day, it continues to give me joy to present a tomato to such a well-designed adversary for its eventual trip to my tummy.
Some members of my family (me particularly) like their tomatoes peeled, then sliced or diced. For such an exercise I own a small knife with a perfectly serrated edge and blade thickness to perform this exercise with a precision that renders the fruit skin-free but still substantially whole.
If I come home to a meal with peeled tomatoes I know my wife is either trying to tell me she loves me very dearly (she doesn't really see the need to go to this extra step so it is truly a labor of love, or it may even harken to my premise a few weeks ago on “Help me, help you, help me”) or wants something dearly enough to have gone to the trouble to peel the suckers.
There is only one person I can recall giving one of my prized knives to and she was a resident of Jacksonville. I feel certain she used it again and again.
The horror I must face from time-to-time is the irreverence my family exhibits to my prized culinary possessions. I can walk in the kitchen and begin to look for a “proper” tomato knife only to look across the room and see someone cutting a bite of chicken or leftover steak with the darned thing. The audacity!
I try to lecture in vain on the heresy this represents to all tomato knives and their real owners but alas it falls on deaf ears. The thought of a deadbolt on a knife drawer to protect the misuse of such cutlery seems, well, obsessive.
In the meantime, our window to enjoy this delicacy of a season is already short lived. Enjoy the rest of the season and viva tomatoes!
I try to lecture in vain on the heresy this represents to all tomato knives and their real owners but alas it falls on deaf ears. The thought of a deadbolt on a knife drawer to protect the misuse of such cutlery seems, well, obsessive.
In the meantime, our window to enjoy this delicacy of a season is already short lived. Enjoy the rest of the season and viva tomatoes!
