Domesticity is strangely present in our house. An unseasonably cool July and lots of rain combined to produce produce (clever aren't I?? sorry.) in abundance in our small garden. Tomatoes and peppers in particular have been plentiful and pretty. Very pretty. Very, very pretty. To look at. And not eat. If you are not a fan of the raw tomato. And I am not. But they are so pretty. And so plentiful. What to do?

Idea #1 - Force David and Caroline to eat 87.5 tomatoes each day to claim we have benefited from our gardening labors and harvest. (Parker and I staunchly refuse to participate and would be the administrators of this idea.)

Idea #2 - Put a table out front and start a short term Farmer's Market in the front yard. Force Parker & Caroline to man the table and consider it a lesson in money management and bartering.

Idea #3 - Be ridiculously domestic and figure out something to make with these little red rolly things.

I decided #3 had the best chance of me not being considered Cap'n Bligh and avoiding a mutiny. (Although the younger of the crew had no chance of avoiding involvement in the labors to come. heh heh heh)

Gazillions of google searches and cookbooks later, I found two blog people (one actually in Dallas) who had recipes for homemade spaghetti sauce from tomatoes in their back yard. Big breath. Another look at the gallons of tomatoes, on the counter and I summon the work force.

"Kids." I began. "We are going to make pasta sauce...(blank looks stare at me...How was this particularly new and exciting, they wonder? We eat pasta all the time.) from our own tomatoes!" Eyes open. Mouths gape. They look at me, then the piles of tomatoes and back to me. "How?" They ask. I answer confidently and intelligently "I don't know. But other people have done it. Go look at the computer. We are going to try."

We proceeded to assembly line the tomatoes. Caroline pulled the stems and tops off, Parker washed then and I did the thing where you drop them in boiling water and then plunge them into ice water as the skin shrivels and splits. We continued this for about an hour. See, these are not normal tomatoes, they are CHERRY tomatoes. As in 137 to a gallon instead of 8. Finally the last of the tomatoes was iced and the peeling began, it was fun for an hour or so. Then the dreaded sounds of abandonment began. "Hey Mommy? We've been washing and peeling tomatoes for a loooong time. I'm getting tired. Can I stop now?"

And then there were two.

Parker and I forged on, peeling and coring itty bitty tomatoelettes, billions and billions and billions and bajillions of them. Parker and I peeled and cored and bantered and chatted and peeled and peeled and cored and then, Parker, my trusty First Mate looked at me apologetically and said "Mom? I'm really tired of peeling tomatoes. Can I stop now?"

And then there was one.

Alone now, the bowl never seemed to empty and the little red things taunted me and mocked me saying "You don't even like us. Why are you doing this? We taste like TOMATOES! HAA! HAA! HAA!" In a fog I finished the last one, more than 3 hours after the first, vowing never to core tiny, smooshy, peeled tomatoes again.

I called in the children and I looked into the pot. Way, way down in the pot. Where were the tomatoes? We started with several gallons of raw, cherry tomatoes and after boiling, peeling and coring there was only about a half a cup left!

Not really. But they only came up half way in the not-so-big pot I had been tossing them in. Okay, I breathed, what now? I checked my new found and unknown blogging cooking inspiration and decided I didn't like her seasonings and ideas after all and started tossing vegetables and spices in the pot. I left it to simmer and pondered the backup plan for dinner. I like a burger.

Hours later, the kitchen had been triaged and mostly cleaned from the battle with domesticity and behold! A yummy smell was coming from the small pot on the stove! Oh yeah and pluck my chicken! It was going to be edible!

We surprised David with our special sauce and it was enjoyed by all. It turned out quite delicious and yummy. Next time I want to use tomatoes the size of cantaloupes. Three and done!

Posted by stephanie at July 23, 2007 03:43 PM

Hi Stephanie!

I love reading your tales on your blog, but I've never posted a comment before. BTW, this is Jenny Terry now Tomotaki. Remember me??

I have a food allergy question for you but I didn't see a "contact us" link to your email from your webpage. So ... send me an email so I can ask you about epipens! I've heard y'all have them!!

Thanks!

Jenny T.

Posted by: Jenny at July 24, 2007 01:13 PM

Talk about labor intensive pasta sauce! And I'm impressed that your young helpers stuck with you as long as they did. Way to go, Parker & Caroline!

Posted by: Ruth at July 25, 2007 07:58 AM

As always, a lovely story to lighten my heart...and I was quite taken with remembrances of freezing homemade tomato sauce and drying homegrown tomatoes....then I came upon the "cherry tomato" concept. This I wouldn't even consider. Next time, try chopping them up with some fresh basil, a little heady olive oil, fresh ground pepper and whatever else you please....and then serving it on steaming pasta...some red wine...and you're having fun....oops! I forgot...you hate tomatoes!
Love you, Toots!

Posted by: Melody at July 27, 2007 05:52 PM

I love you too! :)

Posted by: The Niece at July 30, 2007 03:49 PM