You know what I’m talking about! A real honest to goodness big fat juicy tomato ripe off the vine and it’s got my name on it. I’ve been patient through the long winter months enduring what I call the fake ones sold in the grocery store. My wait is over and it’s a beauty, big luscious hanging there in all it’s glory whispering BLT me you know you want too.
There’s grand anticipation as I bend over and lift it gently from the vine. We begin to converse on the way back to my kitchen from the spot from which it came. “The rest of the family will smell bacon frying in the middle of the afternoon and know I’m here, it taunts me. The fresh bread you baked for just this occasion will need slicing now that it’s cooled down. The lettuce in the next row over from me has already wilted and gone to seed, soooooooooo little lady hope you bought lettuce when you went grocery shopping yesterday.”
Homemade bread slices slandered with mayo layered with crisp bacon and lettuce await the crown jewel, a home-grown garden tomato.
Homemade bread slices slandered with mayo layered with crisp bacon and lettuce await the crown jewel, a home-grown garden tomato. It’s destiny, my first BLT of the season. The very thought of it makes me dizzy with delight, orgasmic even.
The fat juicy fine ripened tomato is sitting on the kitchen counter now and it knows what’s about to happen as it continues to taunt me, “You should have fried the bacon before you came and got me old woman.”
“Roll over Beethoven, says I the old man’s been busy whilst I’ve been tending to getting you and you will see there’s four slices of bread slandered in mayo, lettuce, crisp bacon on two plates next to you. Bet’ch’ didn’t know you grew big enough for two.”
