I shocked any number of my citified friends with my rodent-bitten tomato-eating. Protests came in from as far away as North Carolina pleading with me to return to something resembling urban life before it was too late.
(I must repeat, for those not in the know: Iowa City is not a city. I love it, but it’s a city in name only…)
But these well-wishing friends, these friends who think I’ve lost all touch with urban reality, should know that is not the case. Let it not be said that I will eat any tomato with a hint of beauty to it.
For example, on Sunday, I noticed this lovely ripe Amish Paste tomato:
However, that tomato was lying in the dirt of the pot next to it, because its particular branch had grown out well beyond the bounds of its own pot, and honestly, I was not going out and buying more stakes this year. I ran out, and this particular branch of tomatoes, I decided long ago, was going to have to suck it up and lie there.
Well, this particular tomato gave me a way-fun karmic payback for my little act of neglect. When I lifted it up to remove it from the branch, I discovered the most amazing fuzzy-moldy rot on the other side that I’ve ever seen.
Although history might suggest otherwise, I want to note for the record that I did not cut off the good part and eat it for lunch. This one went straight in the compost bin, mold and all.