Farmers’ Market and Tomato Elixir


Another Saturday in August means a trip to the Mount Pleasant farmers’ market. Neighbor Jennifer and I went together.

By noon, the tomatoes — black, Japanese, Beefsteak, a few brilliant yellows and other heirlooms — burbled on the stove with chopped onions that had had a headstart into translucence.

Tomato shapes flattened, liquid evaporated and flavors settled, the pot’s growing inner wall acting as a cook’s sundial.

By three o’clock, red and yellow curls of skin could be plucked, and the reward was ready for cooling and eating. A baguette, vegetables, pasta, or simply, a spoon — yum. More slow food, please.

Seed, soil, sun, and time. Ah!

Tomato pics are at noon, 1:26, 3.

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About Carolyn

I live in Washington, D.C., write, teach, try to eat the requisite fruits and veggies daily, and avoid caffeine after 2 pm. I wonder about things a lot -- like why "pretty" means "pretty" and "not so much" and if I can ever perfect the single-portion, no-knead, daily baguette and how many people realize that Beau Brummel had a lot to do with our desire to bathe daily -- those of us who do in fact "take the daily."
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