At ten o’clock, there is still a little light in the sky. Enough light for me to see several inch-long green tomatoes clustered on one of the four plants on our patio; not enough light for my camera to show them to you. San Marzanos, these tiny fruits, already oblong, but without the dimples and pointed ends they’ll have when mature.
I’ve never grown tomatoes, and have no idea whether the tremendous knack my grandmother had has come down to me. I worry that I may not be able to keep these plants alive through the summer, that I could kill them through benign neglect, of a surfeit of love and water.
I worry, but already I have such plans for these tomatoes. They will be slathered in olive oil, dusted with coriander, and tucked into a warm oven to roast slowly while we sleep. Once roasted, they will be layered with fresh mozzarella (the mozzarella I will have learned to make by then!) on grilled slices of chewy homemade bread.
Eighty days, I’ve read, is how long San Marzanos take to ripen. Eighty days to imagine a night when the aroma of these tomatoes roasting will waft through our house. Eighty days to learn how to make cheese. Eighty days to keep those plants alive.
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2 responses so far ↓
Kimberly,
Becoming a gardener is a lesson in life long patience.
The mozz should be no problem.
Making sure the basil doesn’t go to seed should be easy too.
When is dinner?
nm
Cheese is easy! And delicious! Just makes sure to get good milk.