You Say Tomato

It may seem like a small thing to some, but it isn’t.  I remember eating at a restaurant one August in Virginia, four or five years ago, and ordering a Cobb Salad.  Out came this huge bowl of lettuce, chicken, blue cheese, and wedges of rock-hard gassed tomatoes.  The worst part was that there was a man selling local tomatoes in the parking lot of the restaurant, maybe the best you can get anywhere, for less than the restaurant paid for nasty imitations.  It scarred me.

So, this past Wednesday I took my granddaughter and best friend, Ella, to get a Greek Salad at Mr. Gyro’s.  The salad was topped with six glorious slices of local tomatoes.  There’s hope.


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