Well, here I am. In the deep end of the blog pool without any floaties. I think that I should be writing something profound and wonderful for my first blog but I think I’ll just tread here a bit and see what happens. I keep reminding myself there are no sharks in pools, yet I keep looking around for the fins. Hopefully one of you nice colorful clown fish will swim by and make friends. Then, the pool won’t seem so lonely.
Until then, I think we should talk about dirty girl tomatoes because quite honestly, I cannot get them off the brain. Have you tried one of these little gems yet? Wow. The bite size California grown beauties are so concentrated with pure sweet tomatoe love that you will find yourself like me – loading up bags full in the store and shooing away other customers so they won’t get any. Ugly yes, but if you have tried these I know you understand.
It happened very innocently. I was at WF and they had a giant display of these goddesses in the produce section. They are the perfect color of red. Not fire engine, not stop sign and not Swiss army. They are Ferrari Red and as shiny and polished as one. I was walking by and uncontrollably committed a drive-by tomatoe pinching. It was just one. I gave it a quick shirt shine (hey, even organic produce needs a little clean off of its “travel dirt”) and popped it in my mouth. Immediately the cart and I were back tracking to the display. I filled a bag while daydreaming of how good they were going to be with some fresh basil, homemade buffalo mozzarella, a teaspoon of pesto, a glug of balsamic, a splash of olive oil and some fresh ground salt and pepper. Mama mia. After I made a public announcement of my undying love, I pinched one more. Sorry WF.
Hours later I watched my boyfriend’s eyes widen as he took his first bite of the salad. He asked if they were “heirlooms” which was very sweet as he know I have been studying up on my tomatoe varieties lately. I told him they were “dirty girls late” which made him laugh of course. “Better a dirty girl late than a dirty girl never” he replied. Men.
Dirty girls are grown on a farm of the same name in Northern California. They are grown without water which makes their yield small but their flavor and concentration powerful. They harvest twice a year, according to the WF employee I held captive until he told me everything he knew about them. This was the late harvest and they were going fast. He secretly told me (I think just so I would release my death grip on his arm) that they were his favorites too and that they are best even just with a sprinkle of salt and a dash of olive oil.
Hurry out and see if you can still get a sample or two of these little gems before next season. I would love to know what others have done with them. The flavor is so good that I hesitate to cook them. Yet I can imagine how gorgeous they would be roasted too! Here is the bowlful that we ate last night.
I make no apologies about my photography, but I probably should. I know many of you are such wonderful photographers and specialize in food. I do specialize in food but just by cooking and eating it. I don’t take such great shots of it. Hopefully I will improve with the blog. Until then…