A humorous look at bodily ills and daily woes, and tips from someone who has suffered everything from arthritis to athlete's foot.
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Last night I ate the tomato. I don't know why I felt so guilty. It was only a vegetable (fruit?) after all. But I had grown it and was very proud of it. I have had to remind myself that it was grown for a specific purpose, to supply me with nice, fresh, organic tomatoes for my salads. And after all, you can' have your tomatoes and eat them.
Well, I suppose I could have sprayed it with some kind of resin and preserved it in a clear box like Damien Hirst's cow, but it was much more pleasant to carve it up and eat it with rocket salad and Cornish plaice fillet. For the record, it was delicious. Sweet, but not too much, very juicy and now that its neighbours on the vine are ripening up nicely, I hope to enjoy some more. There are some interesting varieties growing on the other plants, including plum tomatoes that look like little light bulbs and some mysterious ones called Black Andalucian that I bought just for the name. Wonder if they'll look anything like these? Sorry, I couldn't get the photo to come up any bigger.