Wednesday 12 September 2012

So let’s talk tomatoes

Six different ruddy varieties:  green zebra, green finger, pink lady, black pineapple, yellow brandywine, and bog-standard plum – all coaxed from seed to sprouting plant – except for the plum which were given to me by my some time to be father-in-law.  I’ve been tending them like babies all summer, trussing them in the greenhouse (especially bought for the purpose of tomato propagation) and placing others in choice spots around the garden where the sun can bathe them (when it deigns to shine), and the rain can feed them, when it bursts – as it has had a tendency to do – from the heavens.  
And this is what they look like:






I can’t tell one from the other, except for the stunted green fingers which I didn’t like the sound of from the beginning.  No chance of them ripening now this late in the season.  I feel chutney coming on.

Life is full of disappointments, but the fact that the only ones that ripened are the plum tomatoes, and that they taste like economy Tesco's - ie 95 percent water, is one of them.