Spring has sprung. Maybe not by the calendar, but there are signs. Tiny signs. Portents of things to come.
Broccoli, starting.
A cuke (Beth Alpha), trying to unfold.
I have a quarter flat started with sungold tomatoes, and the rest with other tomatoes, peppers, other cukes, and so on and on and on. I’m hoping that this week we’ll be able to get the mixes going and get some other frames in place. People like to remind us that it’s only February, and to that I say: it’s spring. Must be. Has to be.
Tomatoes. One of my most favorite things. Not in sauces, per se, but just alone. Perhaps accompanying a cucumber with some red wine vinegar and evoo. (I hear Rachael spewing out the definition of her acronym in my ear…)
But alas, tomatoes are just mushy orbs of crap this time of year. I miss tomatoes. They are sad and pathetic slices of their former selves. It would be nice to to have a summer tomato in February. A Valentine tomato, maybe. Can you invent one o’ those, Eh-net?