Essay — Tomahtoes

Thanks for sharing this!

The Gershwin brothers once wrote a wonderful song that included the words, You like tomato and I like tomahto.

Well, here in Carpenter Country, we’re drowning in the edible fruit, and I for one am ready to sing the last line–Let’s call the whole thing off.

What’s going on? Blame it on the guy who shares my space.

For years he’s been planting store-bought tomato seedlings. And for years, cutworms, hornworms, aphids, and whatever else was creeping and crawling around in our sandy soil beat him to the fruits of his labor.

Enter heritage seeds and starter pots.

The sane one in the family (me) thought three containers would be plenty. Somehow, eighteen tall plants are now growing in the veggie plot.

Last week, the fruit decided to ripen–all at once.

Image source: Heavybluesman via Wikimedia Commons

Image source: Heavybluesman via Wikimedia Commons

In an effort to accommodate the heaps of delicious orbs flooding into the kitchen, I hauled out the cookbook. Soon stewed tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, and BLT’s appeared at every meal.

To find new recipes, I turned to the internet. That’s when I learned tomatoes have a long history, come in many varieties, and colors as diverse as black, brown, and purple. They are also supposed to help prevent prostate cancer and heart disease, and protect against sunburn.

But when the freezer filled up and hives sent me running for the itch cream, I started hunting for anyone who wanted the homegrown fruit.

In the beginning, the takers were many. Now the crowd has slowed to a few. Unfortunately no one told the tomato plants. They continue to produce like rabbits.


Does anyone want a tomato or a tomahto?



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We write. Visit us in Carpenter Country, a magical place that, like our stories, is unreal but not untrue.

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