Ruminations and recipes from a small kitchen in a big city.


Tomatoes arrive in the heat.

They are coming in all at once, clusters of orbs changing overnight from pale green to orange and then to red: not burgundy red or crimson or any one of a number of other reds, but that unique red of ripe tomatoes that is as warm and deep the sun dropping into the Indian Ocean, a sight I have not seen since the great autumn of 1988 and, before that, the seminal coming of age summer of 1971/2, when Australian cricket spawned a new sensation, the moustached fast bowler named Lillee who would inspire, both in style and in facial hair, another sensation forty-one years later.

That was exhausting to write so I can imagine how it reads. Yes, it's Bulwer-Lytton time again; the competition that asks you to write the opening sentence of the worst-ever novel. Shouldn't be hard: just read the average corporate mission statement or the introduction to a bureaucrat's PowerPoint presentation.


The crop had not looked great, but that changed last week. Most are cherry tomatoes, best eaten in a simple salad. Chop an onion, halve the tomatoes, combine in a bowl cut side up, drizzle with very good green olive oil and a dash of vinegar, scatter a shard of fresh basil over and shower with salt and pepper. Heavenly as a side dish to grilled fish or spoon over fresh crusty bread.

There are more coming. I'm looking for ideas.


Cindy said...

I've been using pomegranate molasses and parsley instead of olive oil/vinegar/basil and enjoying the effect.

kitchen hand said...

I'll try that. Pomegranates are falling to the ground down the street.

jo said...

I used to make a braised monkfish tail with cherry tomatoes sliced in half and the other usual suspects like the olive oil and basil. Quite delightful.

kitchen hand said...

That sounds good, Jo.