Your refusal to comment on whether Dennis and I should install raised planting beds in the front lawn (see previous post) gives me pause. I have to assume that you think the idea is cracked brain, and you worry about our standing in the community. You're loathed to encourage us in what might well be a misadventure, although I doubt it would reach more than minnow proportions. At worst, we might encourage the squirrels and the crows to linge
r even longer at our house, given the possibility they might nip a bite of fruit or pilfer a fat worm. From the humans, some passers-by might roll their eyes and cluck a bit, or we might find ourselves the subject of a little neighborhood gossip for being "different." All are possible.
On the other hand, no one wants to be the one who dampens our spirits and just says, "No." You're not willing to finger-wag and tell us, "No front yard veggie patch. Not now. Not later. Not ever. You live in the suburbs, and not in California's farm belt. Besides, you already have an overabundance of tomatoes. Do your really want more produce? "
I have to admit that the tomato surplus is an excellent point. When does one cross the line with the crops? When does one arrive at too much of a good thing?
For the record, 60 tomatoes of mixed sizes and varieties -- after being skinned, seeded, cooked and pureed -- yield 8 cups of tomato something or other. You could call it a marinara sauce if you like, but it's more of a base, really, on which to build other dishes. One could add meat, or broccoli and eggplant, or shellfish, or just some garlic and mushrooms. I know the yields and quantities from personal experience. I've stood at the stove for hours this summer and processed tomatoes in this way. As I write this, a medium-sized pot of tomatoes, to which ground beef, red wine, and herbs have been added, bubbles gently in the kitchen, evidence of my labors.
Truth is, the bumper crops we experience every year (because my husband, instead of being conservative, gets greedy and installs dozens of tomato plants each spring that explode with full and unbelievable production by August) are a trial. I mean this in a good way. We share the bounty with anyone who expresses the tiniest interest. We eat lots of salads and soups. And I cook tomatoes until my hands are red and my fingers are wrinkled in order to freeze quite a bit of puree for later. Sometimes I reach my limit.
Of course, come this October, when I'm thawing out a few cups of home-grown tomato sauce for lasagna or some pasta, I'll be grateful for the amazing taste and the fact that it didn't come from a can or a jar or a supermarket shelf.
r even longer at our house, given the possibility they might nip a bite of fruit or pilfer a fat worm. From the humans, some passers-by might roll their eyes and cluck a bit, or we might find ourselves the subject of a little neighborhood gossip for being "different." All are possible.On the other hand, no one wants to be the one who dampens our spirits and just says, "No." You're not willing to finger-wag and tell us, "No front yard veggie patch. Not now. Not later. Not ever. You live in the suburbs, and not in California's farm belt. Besides, you already have an overabundance of tomatoes. Do your really want more produce? "
I have to admit that the tomato surplus is an excellent point. When does one cross the line with the crops? When does one arrive at too much of a good thing?
For the record, 60 tomatoes of mixed sizes and varieties -- after being skinned, seeded, cooked and pureed -- yield 8 cups of tomato something or other. You could call it a marinara sauce if you like, but it's more of a base, really, on which to build other dishes. One could add meat, or broccoli and eggplant, or shellfish, or just some garlic and mushrooms. I know the yields and quantities from personal experience. I've stood at the stove for hours this summer and processed tomatoes in this way. As I write this, a medium-sized pot of tomatoes, to which ground beef, red wine, and herbs have been added, bubbles gently in the kitchen, evidence of my labors.
Truth is, the bumper crops we experience every year (because my husband, instead of being conservative, gets greedy and installs dozens of tomato plants each spring that explode with full and unbelievable production by August) are a trial. I mean this in a good way. We share the bounty with anyone who expresses the tiniest interest. We eat lots of salads and soups. And I cook tomatoes until my hands are red and my fingers are wrinkled in order to freeze quite a bit of puree for later. Sometimes I reach my limit.
Of course, come this October, when I'm thawing out a few cups of home-grown tomato sauce for lasagna or some pasta, I'll be grateful for the amazing taste and the fact that it didn't come from a can or a jar or a supermarket shelf.
OK, I'll jump in with a comment...I have a semi-bumper crop of chilis happily growing in pots in my front yard. At first, I planted them because I liked the actual plant, never expecting them to actually grow (I have zero gardening skills). They are quite attractive though, but how many chilis can a person eat? Next year, I may try my hand at tomatoes. My front yard will eventually look like a salsa bar!
ReplyDeleteHi Cathleen,
ReplyDeleteCome up to my section of NY. You'll fit right in. We have not sucumbed to planting veggies with our garden activities, just perennials, annuals and herbs. Wish you could give us some of your tomatoes. I'd make good use of them, as well.
P.S. An area off to the side of the front may not be too hard for the neighbors to take. With the extra tomatoes you could always set up a stand. It's done here all the time.
Addie
Hi Addie,
ReplyDeleteI so wish I could give you some tomatoes, too. I cooked up another batch of tomato puree this morning, and I still have plenty more ripening on the vine. No one sets up vegetable stands here. Closest we come is an occasional kids' lemonade stand. I may become the first tomato vendor on my block, however. Our product is really tasty and fully organic (although we're not officially certified as such).
Best from Glendale, where we are well past the tomato saturation point.