Every year, around the marking of the vernal equinox, my friend Mike slathers on his SPF 110 and digs up his yard to plant tomatoes. This is not the trivial undertaking of a casual hobbyist or the relaxing pursuit of a gentleman farmer. No sir. Raising tomatoes in Austin, Texas is all-out warfare against a relentless sun, against bleached soil that hasn't seen rain in months, and against the unwavering heat. It takes a serious man and a hearty tomato pedigree to yield edible results.
We've had the good fortune of tending to Mike's garden when he takes his family on vacation, and the reward for weeding and irrigating is everything we can pick. This is a rare treat, given that we live in an era of tasteless tomatoes. Mike's yield lasts for a few weeks. Then, when the days of living on garden-fresh tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, and fresh cracked pepper give way to the desperate search for a tomato with flavor, where does one go to add the real thing to a salad. We have found that the only store-bought tomato that delivers any semblance of flavor is the cherry tomato. While these little guys are no substitute for a fresh-picked tomato from the garden, still warm from the heat of the afternoon, it's the best we've got.
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