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Whoa!

As we used to say way back when in the mid west: Holy Toledo! Or perhaps more accurately here: Holy Tomato! Witness in order of ripeness four tomatoes we culled on our last stop by the garden -- except when we culled them, all were solid green. We took them thinking we'd fry them or pickle them, figuring they'd never get around to ripening on the vine. And so the fruits of my laziness pay off a week later. Now I'm thinking less along the lines of fried green tomatoes, and more along the lines of a good BLT. Who knew -- you take them off green, and ripe they turn.

It's Good to be the King

You know it's small world when you find out you're only a few degrees of separation away from Giuseppe Spatari, the current reigning King of the Giant Tomato. Turns out my gardening partner, The Canadian Squatter, is friends from way back with King Joe's daughter (making her, I suppose, the Crown Princess of the Giant Tomato), and he passed along a link to the pics. (Check out the look on the king's face in the background of the portrait of the third-place finisher: Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.) Apparently growing mammoth tomatoes will also get you written up in the Washington Post. All I can say is watch your back, tomato man. Unimpressive beginnings, or simply the first round of the great tomato growing rope-a-dope? Only time will tell ...

First Fruits

There you have it folks: my lady friend, the Canadian Squatter, and I would not necessarily perish on our own in the wild. The deer may have eaten our Brussels sprouts, and our zucchini may have inexplicably perished. But we could, at the very least, grow a tomato -- a really, really delicious tomato.

Squatters' Garden

CLICK HERE for the riveting story of three hapless academics' attempts to coax actual produce from out of the earth.