Both of the responses to this seem to assume that my love of tomatoes comes from Italy or Italian culture. It comes from the American deep south, much closer to where tomatoes actually come from. Adding oil or extra ingredients takes away from the moist, cooling nature of a tomato on a hot summer day. A tomato is bursting with refreshment. All you gotta do is let it out.
I’m not going to get into details, and it wouldn’t be a fun story. It’s just one of my many sad, quiet stories about families paying lip service to the idea of love.
No favorite. All tomatoes are good tomatoes. Raw, sliced, lightly salted, maybe a a little pepper or paprika.
Sliced tomato, slice of bocconcini, pepper, basil and a bit of olive oil
🤤
All of these but on a good slice of focaccia
Wait, seriously? No olive oil?!
Both of the responses to this seem to assume that my love of tomatoes comes from Italy or Italian culture. It comes from the American deep south, much closer to where tomatoes actually come from. Adding oil or extra ingredients takes away from the moist, cooling nature of a tomato on a hot summer day. A tomato is bursting with refreshment. All you gotta do is let it out.
Tell me you never had Gazpacho, without telling me you never had Gazpacho /s
Seriously though, enjoy your tomatoes however you prefer! 🍅❤️
My one encounter with gazpacho was… stressful. I haven’t gone back to it since. I have bad memories of gazpacho.
Now I am curious …
I’m not going to get into details, and it wouldn’t be a fun story. It’s just one of my many sad, quiet stories about families paying lip service to the idea of love.
Now I feel quite sorry for you. Family trouble is always though. I wish I could make you gazpacho to enjoy in a cosy and nice atmosphere.