I told you, I could live on this stuff. And as my tomatoes are ripening by the bushel, I just might.
This is today’s variation on the bruschetta theme. I have more golden cherry tomatoes than I know what to do with, along with a bunch of grape tomatoes and heaps of basil. For lunch today, I threw it all together, added a little oil and balsamic vinegar, and piled it on a sliced baguette.
To be honest, I didn’t even toast the bread, so this isn’t properly bruschetta, but tomatoes-on-baguette doesn’t sound as nice. I didn’t feel like taking the time to toast, and I had the most wonderful fresh baguette from King Arthur Flour. But it would have been lovely toasted and rubbed with garlic. Maybe next time. At the rate my tomatoes are going, there will certainly be a next time.
I’m beginning to wonder if it is possible to overdose on tomatoes. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, we are what we eat and we eat what we are. By this logic, will I wake up one day, having become a tomato? My mother eats so many carrots, the skin on the inside of her hands sometimes turns orange, so I suspect it is possible to become what we eat in a literal way.
Having said that, for my husband, few things would be more unpleasant than a diet consisting primarily of tomatoes. But that just means that I don’t have to share. It also means he has many opportunities to grumble over “contraband” in the dinnertime salad.