Mine own tomatoes (129th new thing).

August 11, 2011 § Leave a comment

Finally, the topsy turvy tomato planters yielded edible fruit! I had grown something that I could consume! Day One Hundred Twenty-Nine was certainly an exciting moment in my life. I picked the ripe red fruit and made a meal of them.

Sickly Heirloom Mountain Pride

Some of the tomatoes turned out better than others. After some intensive internet research looking at photographs of distorted fruit (like WEbMD for gardening) I found an image that matched the discoloration of my Mountain Pride strain, and the diagnosis was Tomato Spotted Wilt Virus. Damn you, TSWV! It could also be stink bugs, from another source, but based on the fact that that plant has YET to recover (four weeks later), I’m going with the former.  There was also some growth cracking, where it goes from dry to very wet weather, causing, well, a growth spurt of the fruit, and then a crack. I love the self-explanatory names. At least the Better Boys were doing better.

Better Better Boy

To utilize this fresh organic (no pesticides) home grown source I wanted to make an easy dish, that really took advantage of the flavor of the fruit of my labor (pun intended). I decided to do a caprese salad, garnished with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. A tasty treat without a lot of fuss (call me Martha Stewart).

And the tomatoes didn’t disappoint. While they probably tasted similar to most tomatoes I could have bought in the grocery store, to my palate they were perfect. I’m sure I could taste the influence of all the hard work I put in planting, fertilizing, and watering those beasts. If I had sung to them they would have tasted musical.


I gobbled up the dish, sharing with Patrick of course. For the next few days I made plenty of tomato-mozzarella-basil salad along with a large portion of bruschetta, but still we have tomatoes in the fridge.

And while the Mountain Pride plant has withered away to nearly nothing, the Better Boy has new fruit. Come two weeks from this posting, I may be throwing tomatoes like the Spanish Tomatina. Ole!


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