Need any tomatoes? ~ September 6, 2006

David Heiller

I’ve been asking that question a lot lately.

We’ve got a bumper crop of BHN665 toma­toes. That’s the very ordinary name for the vari­ety I bought from Johnny’s Seeds. It’s not a typi­cal tomato name. Some people will only plant a tomato with “beef” in its name. Beefy Boy, Beefy Girl, Big Beefy Momma.

David and a small portion of our bumper crop.

But good old BHN665 came through big time. I planted the seeds in March, then transplanted them about three times. They fought through some blossom end rot during the dry spell, and now they are pretty much thick and perfect.

We’ve frozen a lot, and we’ve made two dif­ferent kinds of salsa too, with more, much more, waiting to be made.

I’ve given a lot away too. It’s a lot of fun to do that. Some people really appreciate it.

Jane Palen, who also works at The Argus, is one of them. She gets excited, and even describes what she will do them. “Why, I think I’ll slice them up, and layer them with fresh mozzarella. Then I’ll drizzle on some olive oil, and sprinkle chopped fresh basil on top;” she’ll say in a very refined voice, just short of an English accent.

I haven’t done a lot of drizzling in my life, so I have to take her word on that.

She took another batch home, then talked about cutting up two cups of tomatoes and making a Greek pasta toss. That sounded more like an Olympic event than something to eat. But I’m sure it will be good. It’s an honor for my BHN665 tomatoes to be treated thusly.

That’s the thing about summer tomatoes. They are good just about any old way. High cuisine or low. In a casserole, as goulash, on a piece of toast with cheese on top. As fresh salsa. Or just cut up on a plate, dashed with salt — that goes good with any supper.

But enough is enough. I have more than I can use. So before familiarity breeds contempt, I’ve been giving tomatoes away. And I’m finding other people in the same predicament.

I asked Diana, another co-worker, if she could use any. “No!” she said, as if Dr. Mengele had just tapped into a root canal.

Vi Lange had a similar response when I asked her. I was worried for a second that she might throw a double chicken wing on me like she taught to all those wrestling sons of hers. But she caught herself in time, and politely allowed as she had plenty of tomatoes, thank you very much.

Dawn Schuttemeier didn^’t need any either. She had tons from her sister Robin, and her stepdad Roger had so many from Al Hues­mann, who has a tomato patch that can be seen from the Space Shuttle, that he brought bags and bags home and said to Mom, “Let’s can tomatoes tonight,” and Mom said are you crazy, but she^’s canning them, so no Dave, I don^’t need any tomatoes.

OK, sheesh.

The one I was really worried about was little Cassie Heimer, who stood on the edge of County Road 3 in Brownsville the other day holding a sign saying “Tomatoes for sale:” That^’s not a safe thing to do when there is a surplus of tomatoes. She survived, luckily.

Tomato season will soon pass. That’s the other interesting thing about tomatoes. They are like that heat wave we had this summer. We get a little tired of it, but come winter, our outlook will do a 180. Our day dreams will turn to warm weather, and fresh summer tomatoes.