Truth is, I don’t really like Mayonnaise – FB2B, part 30

Mayonnaise is one of those food items that I have a dislike/hate relationship with. Over the years, I’ve hoped it would change but it hasn’t. The smell of a knife having been used to spread mayo and left in the kitchen sink makes my stomach turn. I can’t stand the way it makes bread all spongy or the sight of oozy white stuff in tuna or chicken salad*. Mayo on fries, don’t even get me started on how repulsive that is to me.

That’s probably a bit surprising as I like other gooey white food products: yogurt, sour cream, crème fraîche, double cream (mmmm…w/ scones please). Mayonnaise and I have just never hit it off. For some reason, though, this summer, when the tomatoes were at their peak, I decided I wanted to see if I could change that. I decided that maybe if I made my own mayonnaise, I might actually like it.

As you may have read on the previous blog, I went a bit tomato crazy in August. It’s just so hard not to, with such gorgeous specimens available. And the flavors are amazing. I decided that the showcase for this, using only Greenmarket produce, would be a BLT. Again, baring my soul to you, dear readers, I have to confess, I’ve never liked BLTs.

It’s Tomato Time – FB2B, part 29

In the cycle of the seasons, the end of summer usually brings with it a plethora of tomatoes. A really fresh, ripe tomato that’s been raised outdoors (not in a greenhouse) smells just like a warm, lazy August day with sunshine, a blue cloudless sky, and the sound of bugs droning in the background.

If you can get the chance to pick one jus as it is ready, straight from the vine, you are one of the lucky ones. Hold it up to your nose and inhale (yes, this is legal). To me, this is its quintessential fragrance: the mellowness of the red with a bit of a sharp tang from the green. It is the contrast between the smooth roundness of the tomato and the prickly parts of the stalk from which sprung the vine on which it grew.

Some of these memories come from the years when my mother decided to cordon off part of our backyard so that she could grow vegetables (fortunately, it wasn’t any part of the yard where we used to kick soccer balls between used car tires). I can’t remember for how long she did this, but it has left me with a life-long appreciation for freshly-picked produce and the ability to know what a real tomato should taste like. I have been forever spoiled.