You say plum tomato, I say a roma
I love a fresh roma. I like to to roll one around in my hands, feel its weight and its skin. When I make sandwiches for the boys to take to school I’ll put together a number of ingredients, but slicing up a roma… I pause, salt and pepper a slice for myself, and savour it.
I remember one of the first visits to a girlfriend’s home in my teens, about 35 years ago, and talking to her father. “Do you like tomatoes”, he asked. Sure, yeah, yes, I do, I love tomatoes. “What kind of tomatoes do you like?”, he asked. He had me there. I’m not sure at 16 I even knew that tomatoes came in more than one kind. I’m not sure, I said. He named off a list… Big Beefs, Giant Something-er-others, and on and on.
I have to be honest, I still can’t name gardener’s varieties but I can say if I had a wish, if I had a million dollars, I’d have a greenhouse and in it I’d have romas, lots and lots of romas.
