While I work in the garden, I think about Marlon Brando playing an elderly Vito Corleone lumbering through the tomato vines on a summer afternoon. He is playing a game with his grandson, and the simple staked tomatoes -- a holdover from his roots in Sicily -- come crashing down when the huge man falls to his death.
Nothing signifies summer as perfectly as home grown tomatoes swelling and turning pink from green and red from pink as June turns into July.
On a hot afternoon, your hands soak up the tomato attar when you touch the vines, when you move among the cages and stakes to find that one, perfect fruit for your supper sandwich.
In the cool of the evening, you slice and salt it, then lay each slice just so on soft white bread slathered in cold mayonnaise.
Best of all is eating the sandwich outside, barefoot on the porch overlooking the garden, so that you can sing the praises of Better Boys and Early Girls -- and heirloom brandywines, don't forget -- between long, slow swallows.
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It's quite simple, really. A sun-warmed, homegrown tomato is a thing of beauty.
When I lived in New Jersey, we'd buy giant Beefsteak tomatoes. One 1/2" slice of red perfection would cover the bread completely. A bit of mayo, a shake or two of salt and pepper, and heaven was ours. I miss them. Sometimes, standing outside with a salt shaker in one hand and a dripping Beefsteak in the other was all the dinner I needed. Thanks for the scene and the memory.
Like the story. Don't care much for tomatoes. I like the restraint in the telling. *
Very good descriptions and the opening sentence is excellent.
We had a cherry tomato bush behind our house in Iowa City when I was in school.
We'd stumble out summer mornings (couldn't stand going back to Fort Dodge or Adel for the summer, so we'd stick around for summer school and work) after a kegger,before the moring heat that would be unbearable by 10 AM, hose the bush down to knock off bugs in case they were there, and pop the ripe ones into our wooden hung over mouths.
Wash it down with a real Coke, the old fashioned kind, still made with sugar.... ahhh, nothing like it.
You can see why I love this piece soooo much.
Made me think of Guy Clark - "Homegrown Tomatoes"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TWwyhCVBDg
Enjoyed the read, Gita. "In the cool of the evening, you slice and salt it, then lay each slice just so on soft white bread slathered in cold mayonnaise."
Absolutely.
Now I want a salad...
@Gowin: I can't see washing tomatoes down with coke. Maybe as a hangover remedy but still... sounds totally incompatible.
Beautiful and visceral.
Wonderful piece. Seems like we can all relate and taste this. *
I can taste them...the tomatoes, not the people! Thank You.
Makes me feel bad for all of those folks in the world who've never eaten a home-grown tomato off the vine. My grandma used to take her salt shaker with her to the garden and shake as she foraged.*
Mmmmn. Did you ever read Tom Robbins' essay on this subject? His last meal would be the mayonnaise tomato sandwich.
Damn I want one now.
Great. I love tomatoes.*
Tom Robbins is a chump if that's all he wants for his last meal. I mean, no offense, but what about pan-seared scallops? Arugula salad? Pizza blanca with morel mushrooms and feta cheese? Fresh cherries soaking in red cinzano? I'm just saying, here.
Such a mouth-watering tomato story. Makes me want a slice of Vidalia onion, too.*
Delicious story!
Lovely.
I'm now starving for one of those. *
I can feel the juice running down my cheeks and ruining my shirt - but worth it.
Delicious story. The title is superior, as I had hoped, before looking into it at Google. *
This brought back memories of picking tomatoes from our back garden in Dublin. My father poured such love into growing those tomatoes and then preparing and eating them just how you have described. Tomatoes just don't taste like tomatoes any more, you know? "long, slow swallows" I really like that.
I can taste it. Thanks for the memories.
Thankfully my mother made bread and mayo so it was extra special. We had a broader collie who kept the pheasants away from the tomatoes.
Makes me miss the summers of my childhood. And I like the title very much, too!
I wonder if this was inspired by a prompt of some kind because it seems like just a moment, albeit a perfect moment. You are an inspiration to me, making me want to dissect my moments to find the essence at their core.