One of my fondest memories of my childhood growing up in Buffalo, New York, centers around The Summer Tomato. Yes, a true Summer Tomato is worthy of capital letters – a proper noun, indeed.
With 7 children in the house, we bought them by the bushel. A plateful of sliced tomatoes sprinkled with sugar and salt was part of every supper, every day, throughout those three, precious months that we lived for – after a long, harsh winter – and a spring that (eventually) showed up like a savior.
Throughout the summer, a tomato sandwich was the go-to snack. It filled in all the spaces between morning cereal and supper, the spaces between bike riding and swimming and hopscotching.
Simple ingredients: toasted white bread, lots of salad dressing (we didn’t use “mayonnaise”), thick tomato slices, and a few leaves of iceberg lettuce was all it took to sate summer’s demand for light sustenance heavy on the hydration.
Last Sunday, I stopped at a farm market in the North Georgia mountains, where I purchased three tomatoes – one, a gigantic beauty reminiscent of those childhood, round-the-summer bushelsfull.
This morning, I made a sandwich with that monolith.
Today, I share the experience with you.
What about you? What’s one of your favorite summer memories?