Tomatoes are yummy in any form! My grandfather used to slice big beefsteak ones and sprinkle them with sugar. YUM.
I'll have to try that.
I grew up with amazing Jersey tomatoes. Here is my family's favorite tomato recipe:
Go down the shore.
Hit roadside stand and get large basket of tomatoes.
Put tomatoes and any white bread you can get your hands on (bakery is exquisite, Wonder will work)on kitchen counter.
Make sure there is large jar of mayo in the fridge.
Man, we will eat open-face tomato sandwiches for days on end. There will be occasional sassy applications of pepper. Now and then we'll take a breather and devour sweetcorn that was in a field no more than 24 hours previously. OK, summer needs to come back right now.
Hi, Amy!
Dylan is now a huge fan of Noah and Grace on Flickr
I'm a big fan of both Noah and Grace as well as Dylan, on Flicker. In fact, I'm right now discovering I'm a fan of Dylan being a fan of Noah and Grace on Flickr.
I don't even like cutting them up to cook them
Oh, me too.
I still do it, but later I scrub my hands as if I'm auditioning to Macbeth (sp?) or something, with the leftover stench playing the role of the stains.
boyfriend did try some (raw) heirloom tomatoes
I occasionally try to taste some, one form or another, just to see what may happen (I enjoy taking risks with me food. Keeping kosher is so wasted on me). It still makes me want to throw up when it's in my mouth, and the smell is still sickening (did I tell you about the time I thought I put something spoiled in something I cooked because I put some raw tomatoes in it? It smelled - um, I'm whitefonting the description for ick factors -
like somebody threw up in the pot in which the whole thing was being cooked,
and I had to be convinced not to toss the dish to the garbage can. The dish which ended up being quite tasty, if I say so myself. It took me some time to realize the stench was the tomatoes, not the being-spoiled part).
all the minor irritations of growing an alien inside, but no problems
Oh, I love the way you phrased this.
I keep reminding him that's a good thing.
Oh, yeah - absolutely. Yay for good things.
In season tomatoes are the best thing ever.
Jon Hamm as Lex Luthor asking for bailout money is the best thing ever too.
Cats at a cat show in Ohio. (There is a sphinx cat featured in the clip.)
I don't have a problem with getting older at all, but for some reason the constant repetition of "advanced maternal age" when I pregnant with Sara REALLY irritated.
IIRC, when Raquel moved to Greece she found medical professionals refreshingly unmoved by her elderly status.
Tomatoes in chunks -- ick. I've learned to tolerate small chunks in spaghetti sauce because nobody makes chunkless anymore.
Fully pureed into sauces, ketchup, and so on -- fine.
Now I want Jon Hamm to play Lex Luthor ALL the time.
Nilly! A rare Nilly sighting. Wish I could hug you from here.
When I could eat tomatoes, I loved them raw--scoop out the middle and fill the "bowl" with tuna, chicken, potato salad or cottage cheese, ummm, nom. Even with the wheat and tomato ban, once every summer I find the smelliest, roundest, reddest, most succulent home-grown tomato, slather two slices of bread with mayo, salt and paprika, lay tomato slices between them, and have myself an orgiastic 'mater sammich. And suffer the consequences--it's just once a year.
I chuck all my cilantro in Juliana's direction, as I share Sprog of P's opinion of it. Though H tells me he smuggles it into things occasionally. F olives, because they are occasionally nummy, and it's a sporadic sort of relationship. And M mayo because, while I don't like a lot of it, and not on everything, I would be devastated to know it wasn't there. And, FTR, I'm not fond of bacon. Or any pork product, actually. With an infrequent foray into rare-side medium rare steak, I'm a chicken and fish girl. ...though there were those exquisite rosemary pork chops.
Birthday Felicitations, tommyrot!
mmm our classic summer treat was sliced Delaware tomatoes with a little s & p and mayo. yum!!!
My friends' twins have been extra ridiculously cute recently. The other night at dinner (on the night they turned 3 actually) the boy Jack screamed at Zoe "STOP BEATBOXING ZOE!!!" She'd been sort of rhythmically puffing and sputtering while eating spaghetti. Jack must have overheard his mom commenting to his dad that she was beatboxing, and reprimanded her accordingly. She responded with an innocent, "But I like to be beatboxing!"
