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Further proof of theorem: homegrown = awesome

Look, I’m not going to lie to you. This is a post about a tomato. Just one. (Well, from there I extrapolate, but seriously, I’m only featuring one here.) If you are not the kind of person to nod thoughtfully about some comments on and photos of a homegrown tomato from a first-timer, then this probably isn’t the blog post for you. Go find an exciting blog and read about minotaur roller discos or whatever exciting people post about. The rest of us will be over here, appreciating the subtle wonders of nature writ in seed and summer fruit, right gang?

Right. Following the triumphant Spud Harvest Of The Other Day, I went snuffling around the back yard to see what other food I could find. You’ll be pleased to hear I came up with something legit, because otherwise this would be a far more unnerving post about the experimental tucker I found in the leaf litter. Instead, I found this gorgeous baby:

At first I was like...whoa!

Our first tomato! (I know it’s February, but we got the plants in late.) I love it! I love its gnarly fist shape, like it’s all “Take THAT, vegetable retailers!” — I like a harvest I can anthropomorphise into a crusade against Big Vegetable. I turned over to inspect its undercroft…

And then I was like, whoa...

Blemished bottoms beset my blooms. Being a bit of a gardening n00b, I was a bit worried these blights were bellwethers of bugs. Hooray! Not so! Slice that baby open…

And then I was like, whoa!

…and see true beauty. These little bubs were just a bit sunburnt or something. Anyway, the marks were less than skin-deep, so I sliced around them. This pic is a totally accurate portrayal of the colour and juiciness of this delight from the garden bed: I hope this gives you some idea of how fantastic it was. I promptly chopped it, sprinkled it with balsamic, and turned it into lunch. I felt wholesome and healthy, but more importantly I felt like a fucking rock star. I commanded the soil to bring forth my lunch! And it did! (Rock stars do that, right?) Thank you, soil.

And then I was like...whoa.

Awesome. Between this gnarly juicy baby — this sun-warmed FIST TO THE FACE of sucking at the supermarket teat — and our awesome potato crop, I am completely sold on this homegrown jazz.

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