Tomatoes! Tomatoes! Now! How, too.

Mixing them up in Paris

Bonjour! Bonjour! I'm still in Paris!

Every summer, I plant tomatoes. You too? And every summer, I end up buying tomatoes at the farmer’s market. Oh, how I hope it’s not the same for you.

Whether I start from seed or from hearty plants, I can’t get ahead of the beetles and bugs and the chipmunks, rodents I once thought were cute. I don’t sing to my tomatoes, but I do pet them. Usually in the afternoon, when the sun has warmed their skins. And I smell them. I can’t describe the green, slightly musky, slightly sharp scent of the leaves – the next time you’re lucky enough to get a really fresh, ripe tomato, sniff the stem. I love the smell so much that I have a candle that wafts the scent across my kitchen.

I try not to get too attached to the tomatoes in my garden or to even plan how I’ll use them – experience has taught me that they might be ruined by morning, which is why, whenever I buy beautiful tomatoes, their skins firm and smooth (no toothmarks to be seen), their topknots plump, the…