Last summer, New York City rooftops teemed with people sucking on
lemons and downing shots of vinegar. For about a month, in its
characteristic tendency towards cult like obsession, everyone was
talking about the magic berries that made all things acidic and sour
taste sweet, and about the ‘flavortripping’ parties where people
experimented with them. I, however, was in East Africa all summer on a
strict diet of rice and beans sans utensils, and I missed the craze.
Somehow, it seems like Angelinos never got the Magic Berry memo. I was thrilled to find that upon my West Coast relocation I was in the company of people who had not yet ‘flavortripped’. When I learned that a friend of mine had twenty berries chilling in his freezer just WAITING for a throng of curious flavortrippers, I begged to be included. Last Sunday it finally happened. With a tub of olives from the Whole Foods olive bar, I walked into a room of energized people and bowls of lemons, grapefruit, limes, tomatoes, carrots, bok choy, cheeses, jalapeños, radish, and asparagus. The liquids selection was even more obscure, with red and white wines, tequilas, vinegars, hot sauces, and beer.
A few years ago I started a poll on Facebook. I wanted to know what
possessions make people feel wealthy that aren’t expensive or fancy.
Like toilet paper. When I have ample rolls of toilet paper I feel
strangely satisfied. And pens. When I have a lot of pens I feel very,
very rich in a weird way. I just love to not have to go searching high
and low for them. I like bundles of them in the office and kitchen and
living room and a few in the bedroom even. I know it’s weird. I know.
I think just about everyone loves tomatoes. Every time I mention to someone that I grow tomatoes in my garden they immediately turn a little green with envy. Tomatoes are really a labor of love. Some years the bounty is great and in others you're lucky to pick just a few. Last year there was the blight and this summer it's blossom end rot due to the extreme variations in heat. Luckily my tomatoes haven't been affected by that but since I am growing them organically, I do often find a critter who has made a home inside one of my prized possessions. I guess that just shows I'm not the only one who loves them.
I admit it. I’m a tomato junkie. But not just any tomato. Heirlooms. And how this came to be I’m not completely sure. It’s not like I grew up on a farm. And I know it’s not because I have romantic notions of plucking tomatoes off vines in some hazy late summer yellow-lit garden. But when summer rolls around the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, my body goes into automatic mode and my thirst for heirlooms sends me into a frenzy–all rational sense gone. I’m not afraid to admit it: I am an Heirloomaniac.
Have you eaten at the Tuckers recently?”