This week was all about tomatoes at the farmer's market. [Plus I may have a source of duck eggs! I got so excited I think I actually forgot to take the chicken thighs I had just paid for and walked away without them...]
Everybody had beautiful tomatoes, so I went for a riot of multi-colored heirloom varieties. I snagged a box of small ones - grape to cherry sized - that had 13 different kinds in. The colors are inspiring, and I am still overcompensating from having to look at the wooly anemic pink rocks impersonating tomatoes at the grocery store all winter long.
Perhaps a little too much overcompensation [although that's kinda the whole point of overcompensation, innit?], as we will be eating tomatoes at every meal for a while to get through the farmer's market haul.
And that was before the British Guy spotted all the little ripe ones in our feral tomato patch. I've been checking out our bedroom window, but have only seen flowers up to now. You have to go tomato diving into the shrubbery to find the little buggers.
They started out as white currant tomatoes about 15 feet away and 3 years ago, before they went native and colonized what used to be a potato patch being overgrown by mint. I can confidently say that these tomatoes have outgrown, overgrown, and otherwise completely strangled the mint into oblivion.
Plus, these babies haven't been watered in about ... well, never.
I would be scared if I actually thought about how well they were growing overtaking our yard in these dustbowl-like conditions.
Except they are so darned tasty.
And I have to say I really love no-maintenance plants with tasty free food on them.
Aren't they cute?
We took a drive around yesterday [which is why Saturday Farmer's Market isn't getting posted until Sunday evening], showing James the Nephew the sights of Iowa before he leaves to return to the homeland in a few days. One must-see stop for any self-respecting Iowan proudly showing off the state is: Riverside.
Yes, that Riverside.
Gotta love Iowa.