This past weekend, we stopped at a farm stand and got heirloom tomatoes.
I’ve never had a garden. My only experiences with tomatoes are canned tomatoes (delicious for cooking) and supermarket tomatoes (paint them white and use them for baseballs).
I’ve never liked raw tomatoes. I don’t dislike them; I just never got the point.
My Love insisted that we buy a pound of them. I thought she was nuts, but I indulged her.
She showed me how to select tomatoes. I was amazed that they had a nice firm softness, like – well, like something I would describe in a protected post. Her most important advice:
Always get the ugliest tomatoes.
That was Friday afternoon. Saturday for lunch, we had tomato sandwiches.
- Two slices of slightly stale bread, preferably something that will disintegrate when wet (e.g., Portuguese corn broa)
- sliced tomato
- bottled beer
Smear mayo on bread. Stack at least 3/4 inch (20mm) of salted tomato slices between mayo’ed bread.
Eat. Drink beer from bottle. Repeat until sick.
- Don’t bother with a plate. Eat it over the sink. If the tomato is properly ripe, the juice will run down your forearms and off your elbows into the sink.
- Don’t wear a white shirt. In fact, don’t wear a shirt at all. Before starting, my Love stripped to her bra and undies and encouraged me to do the same. I wondered why she was wearing her yoga bra and undies. Now I know.
- My Love says you can substitute olive oil for mayo.
- Don’t drink the beer from a glass. Be careful with the bottle. Your hands will be slick.
- Part of the trick is to finish the sandwich before the bread completely disintegrates.
So, if you see two 30-somethings in their worst bras and undies standing over the sink, drooling red, making obscene slurping sounds, swigging beer from the bottle and laughing, you’ll know you’re at the right place.