I’m Fixing to Pick One

I’m fixing to pick one.

Been watching it for several days. It’s going to be the first one. It has a little pink tint to it, a sure sign that it’s fixing to get ripe.

The first one is always special, particularly in the case of a home grown tomatoes. I’ve got 13 plants, several more than I had last year.

I grew seven of them from seeds and bought the others already about six inches high. Yesterday I counted each individual tomato on them and there are way over a hundred.

Four of the plants I bought had a little tag on the container indicating they were Romas. I don’t usually grow them, but I do like one in my salad, and I also wanted to try sun-drying some of them to use to cook with later. One of my daughters-in-law told me how to do that.

But to my disappointment the Romas came us as Beefsteaks, which goes to show that you can’t trust labels, even the ones on tomato plants at plant stores.

Not that I have anything against Beefsteaks—not at all. In fact, I particularly enjoy a few big slabs of a red-ripe one with some fresh cheese, fresh sweet basil and olive oil. I grow the sweet basil, too, from seeds from last year’s crop.

I grew Beefsteaks for three years in a row. The first crop was great, the second was good, but the third didn’t quite come up to muster. Which goes to show that you can’t stick with the same thing over and over and expect the same results.

Since then I’ve been growing a different breed every year, and it seems to work. If you plant a new breed every year it’s like they are auditioning for you and want to do really well so you’ll plant them again next year while they get lazier and lazier, like some folks do.

I’m growing all Better Boys this year, except for those Romas that turned out to be Beefsteaks, and just watching them grow is stimulating delectable thoughts of comestible heaven.

There’s something else I’ve got to do before they get ripe, though. I’m fixing to pluck a big green one and fry it up.