My grandfather was an unbelievable gardener. Meticulous. Proud. Determined. He had a large vegetable and herb garden and to this day, I don’t know anyone who can cultivate tomatoes like he did. And not just any tomatoes, big, plump, red, juicy ones. He was so enthusiastic and perfect at his craft that neighbors and friends wanted to know: What was his secret? My grandmother used to say it was his love that made them grow so healthy and strong. I believed her of course because to a child, what else but love could make them grow that way?
My favorite part of our day was when my grandmother brought lunch to the backyard and we’d lounge under the shade of the cherry and apple trees. Sometimes, we’d make little beds and sleep on the picnic table with the trees sheltering us from the hot sun. I almost can’t believe those days exist only in my memory now. When we pass by that old house in Montreal, I feel a pang of sadness. The memory of that luscious green garden left such an imprint on my mind, that it’s heartbreaking to see the yard looking so barren. It’s as though nothing had ever thrived there- that nothing could have ever prospered in that earth.
If there’s anything my grandparents taught me it’s that absolutely nothing tastes as good as food that you have harvested on your own soil, and as we begin preparations for our own garden this year, I will remember my grandfather. Since we have only just started planting our herbs and vegetables, I went to our local farmer’s market and purchased grape tomatoes produced right here at home. I couldn’t wait to get home and slow roast them with olive oil, sea salt and thyme and that’s exactly what I did. I’ve been eating them for days - as a topping for my roasted portobello sandwiches, in my avocado and red onion salad and solo, topped with feta and ground pepper.
In addition to forming the foundation for delicious soups and stews, being a beautiful topping for sandwiches, the star of the show in salads, tomatoes are also amazingly simple and perfect on their own. My grandfather used to eat them right off the vine, still warm from the sun. He always carried a small pairing knife in his pocket for sampling his fare, and he proudly offered a taste to bystanders who watched in admiration as he transformed his garden, into the beautiful backyard oasis it truly was.
