Its tomato season. Ripe, small Sungolds pop in your mouth with the sweet tangy juices spurting all over. The less juicy paste tomatoes glisten in the sun, amidst the curling tangle of vines and leaves, waiting to turn into winters tomato sauce or the freshest ketchup in town. The heirlooms sit high and mighty with their zebra stripes, massive and barely holding on the their mother vine. The slicer tomatoes, those sandwich kings, rest humbly next to their kin tomatoes, ready for a nice summer salad opportunity.
Working with tomatoes is a love/hate sort of thing. If you've ever dug deep within the seeping tomato vines to get to that vibrant red globe, you know that feeling of itchy roughness that rubs all over your arms and hands. The tomatoes, a nightshade (Solanaceae family), are related to a number of toxic plants, and you can feel that noxious materials exuding from the leaves. After trellising a greenhouse full of tomatoes, my hands were covered in green, yellow, and black sticky resin. It looked like the skin of a lizard. But once those delicious red fruits started ripening, my aversion to the fierce plants turned into sunny delight.
