Philip Smith
One of my highlights in summer is the day my first, blush-red tomato reveals itself dangling from the vine. To a gardener, it’s like receiving a ribbon or a trophy at the county fair for a job well done.
However, this year, that day didn’t exactly occur. Yes, tomatoes were on the vine, but my first one wasn’t ripe when I harvested. It was greenish orange ... not quite ready to eat. But my urge to sport my first tomato got the better of me, so I picked it a bit too early. My preference is to let them completely ripen on the vine, but that’s not always practical.
So, I placed it on the porch in the sun to ripen a bit more. And therein lies the problem ... when tomatoes come in, a craven overtakes me and I can’t let the blessed fruit ripen properly before yanking it off the vine.
This past Saturday morning, I’d been working in the pasture and weeding my garden, and did so until lunchtime. All I could think about was a tomato sandwich for lunch.
A quality, southern tomato sandwich consists of white bread, mayonnaise, and a garden-ripened tomato garnished with salt and pepper. That’s it – plus nothing, minus nothing.
Now, the degree to which some folks lavish on the mayonnaise, however, can be troubling to me. If it’s too thickly applied, it becomes a mayonnaise sandwich with a bit of tomato for decoration. That’s just not to my liking. Mayonnaise is the topping, not the object of the sandwich. Don’t gussy it up with too much mayonnaise. I do, however, prefer my bread toasted, a thin layer of mayo on both slices of the bread and both sides of the tomato slices, salted and peppered.
When I go off on these seemingly ridiculous qualifications about food, Lisa says I’m too particular. Maybe. But when it comes to a tomato sandwich, one must be particular, otherwise, what’s the point? For example, a store-bought tomato for a tomato sandwich? Really? Who does such?
I’ll tell you who. Someone who doesn’t know better or who doesn’t care because they’re not particular enough. We southerners are not a lot of things, but one thing we are particular about is our tomato sandwich. Apologies, I digress.
Now to my main point. Last Saturday at lunch, I came back to the house to make myself a tomato sandwich. When I opened the refrigerator to retrieve the Duke’s mayonnaise, there it was – a leftover T-Bone steak. I rarely end up with a leftover steak. I raised the beef, so I knew it was tasty and would make a great meal.
But my hankering for a tomato sandwich was branded on my brain and I could do no other. I wanted a tomato sandwich. For those couple of seconds with the refrigerator door wide open, the thought crossed my mind; “What dummy would choose a tomato sandwich over a T-Bone steak?”
I would. I could. I did. However, I did justify my decision by placing the steak on the evening menu. I couldn’t let it go to waste.
I hope you’ll treat yourself to a homegrown tomato sandwich this summer. Your mayonnaise brand may vary, but as long as you’ve got the right tomato, you’ve got the substance. Nothing fancy, just good food. Besides, “You don’t need a silver fork to eat good food.” – Chef Paul Prudhomme
Philip Smith is a community columnist for The Northeast Georgian. Reach him at psmith@cpestman.com.