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By Mimi Becker

Columnist

Somehow, it always works out. Just not always as it has before. More accurately, not always the way we expect it to.  The problem is, we don’t know how to manage what happens along the way which is often out of our control

I’m talking about tomatoes.

When we purchased this home, we had three small children. Among our priorities in this purchase were a decent sized kitchen and a yard.  We got both.  

In general I knew what to do with the kitchen.  We had room to cook, eat, and do homework.  We even had a sitting area. The room in our previous home was so small, two people could occupy it only if each communicated moves in advance.  The new space has evolved as the children have grown and gone. Yet, we have never altered the footprint, though paint colors and surfaces have changed and appliances  replaced.

The yard on the other hand has been an ever changing and challenging and educational endeavor. Our previous yard was considerably smaller. With three young children, its most important feature was a fenced in backyard. Within reason, the children could play with free rein even though we lived very close to a street.

This home got us a whopper of a yard. While the yard is not fenced, the back portion had plenty room to play and was easily supervised from the kitchen windows.

 There was plenty of room for a small garden. We planted things like zucchini and tomatoes.

 Always tomatoes.

Summer gardens are a safe topic of summer conversation. When to plant, what to plant, when to fertilize. When to water. Are there bugs or critters posing threats to production?

Tomatoes, in my experience, are the most common element of summer gardens across all philosophies. Have you planted yours? Did you start from seed or purchase plants? Heirlooms? Comparing rates of growth and emerging blossoms is more than a conversation starter. There is common jubilation or commiseration in anticipation of that first perfect, beautiful tomato somewhere around the middle of the summer.

In the beginning and for many years, we grew tomatoes with the primary goal of eating on sandwiches, in fresh salads, with cottage cheese, during the summer and early fall. When the weather cooled and the vines looked awful, we would harvest the best of the greens and rip out the withered and scraggly mess.

We enjoyed fried green tomatoes for a while and whatever tomatoes ripened while sitting on the kitchen cabinet.

That was that.

A few years ago, we acquired an extra freezer and the game became much more serious.  I began harvesting with the intention of making and freezing tomato sauce for use throughout the year.  My endeavor was reasonably successful.  Tucked away in the freezer basket were neat little packages of homemade tomato sauce for spaghetti, lasagna, chili, soups during the dreary winter months.  

If I got behind, I just tossed ripe tomatoes into bags and into the freezer. I didn’t even peel them. In my top production years, I had enough precious packages to carry us almost all the way to the first ripe tomatoes the next summer. I have a very unscientific, ungourmet recipe. A big pot, cut up whole tomatoes, a couple rough chopped onions, a bunch of garlic cloves, salt, pepper, basil, oregano, thyme, vegetable stock. Simmer, and stir periodically, until it looks like it is cooked.  

I was advised, I can even throw in green tomatoes when the season is winding down. A revelation. My total production increased significantly as I became impatient and didn’t want to waste one morsel of a tomato.

Then, using the best kitchen utensil ever invented, I whiz it all smooth with a hand held immersion blender. I let it simmer a bit longer. When it looks like it is done, I measure it into quart freezer bags, and gloat.  I’m not on the level of pioneer women, but I have homemade tomato sauce in my freezer.

This spring, I was geared up. The last bag of sauce from last year was used. The freezer basket stood empty, ready and waiting. The tomato plants were not looking good. They grew tall and lush and had about four blossoms way too long into the season. I watered and fertilized. And moaned. At least I was not alone. Other home gardeners reported similar concerns. Small comfort. I could accept fewer BLT sandwiches in the short run, but the empty freezer basket was haunting. Every time I opened the freezer door, I was confronted with the prospect of no sauce all winter long. 

My tomatoes grew to gargantuan proportions, many weighing over a pound. But they would not ripen. They turned very slowly to a golden yellow green. In the oddest shapes. Lots of them.

Very few were lost to critters, bugs and other tomato maladies. They just didn’t get that pretty red on the vine.

I gave in. I began picking and made a batch of sauce. It was just fine.

It looks like this odd tomato season will yield my biggest store of frozen sauce ever.