This was the first tomato sandwich I ever ate. While on vacation this summer in North Carolina I was introduced to this southern gem. Lightly toasted bread, with a wee scrape of mayo, fat chunks of July ripened tomato and a twist of sea salt. Enjoyed on the back porch on a gorgeous summer day. Couldn't be more simple. Couldn't be more delicious.
This is the tomato sandwich I ate for lunch today. That same southern gem with my own spin...
Lightly toasted cheese and chive challah bread, made by me, a generous schmear of locally produced chevre cheese, topped with the last wee tomatoes from this year's garden and a shake of sea salt. Enjoyed in the warm kitchen, because it's too cold to eat outside today. Couldn't be more simple. Couldn't be more delicious. Couldn't be more somber. Mournful. Depressing. A pathetic harbinger of impending doom.
...Wait? What....where did this post go awry?
Well, dear readers, this is the last tomato sandwich of the season, for tonight, I plan to commit herbicide. The frost will come and I will not get out the old sheets. The cold will snap and I will let it. The basil has been harvested. The cukes collected. And those final little reds sliced and diced for the season's final nosh.
It was delicious and all the more sweet because it was the last.
Stay tuned...tomorrow I will be processing 5 paper bags full of basil. Pesto anyone?
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