Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Same old, same old

Once more I have overdone something. Once more it involves tomatoes. The seed catalogues have been pouring in and I overdid the ordering. Last year I ordered plants and most of them perished during shipping. I was able to get some old fashioned tomatoes from the nursery down the street but not many of the ones that I wanted to try. This year I am going to start a few seeds of each kind as last year I was overcome with a plethora of plants and many of them never got transplanted. The only kind that I was unable to find were Marmande which I have wanted to try. I may make another order for Poblano peppers and Anaheim peppers.
The overabundance of tomatoes doesn't just apply to seeds. My Brother is amused at the number of cans of tomatoes that I purchase at the grocery store. He doesn't realize that even though I purchase at least ten cans, I always run out by the end of the month. I can't help it, I am crazy about tomatoes. One of my favorite meals is just elbow macaroni with a can of tomatoes over it with lots of black pepper and cheese. I make tomato sauce at least once a week and pizza sauce as needed.
It is so nice to go out on the porch in the morning and see tomatoes from one end of it to the other and then pick and eat a juicy, ripe, tomatoe that has been warming in the Sun. Sliced tomatoes with some mayonaise or balsamic vinegar are wonderful. I used to put quite a bit of salt on them but salt is now a no-no. I am still addicted to soy sauce but that only happens a few times a month. It is difficult to cut back on salt as the food doesn't taste as vibrant but, after a while, the flavors of the food seem to come through in a gentler, tastier way.
I was able to order Omar's Lebanese this year and am looking forward to trying them. The Marmandes are French and therefore as difficult to obtain as the French are to understand. Maybe sometime, if dreams come true, a year in Provence would solve the problem, followed by a year in Tuscany, and then a year in the Greek islands, and a year in intensive care working off all of the cream and butter and sausage, esconced in the lands of Marmande and San Marzano.

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