Gluten-Free Mama was feeling reasonably chipper the other day, so she asked me to round her up some cold-pack tomatoes and marinara sauce, so she could whip up some pasta sauce. This would be the same tomatoes and sauce that I was posting photos of, and prattling about last September and October, when I set personal records for quantity of food put up for the upcoming winter.
 |
| Our crockpot |
With the Heinz tomatoes, I processed vast unlimited quantities of catsup, sauces, hot sauce and salsas. I made sure that all farm-dwelling folks knew that those processed goods were available at any time, all the way up until the point they were gone.
By that time we will be getting close to harvest time again.
Finally, now when the temperature outside will not crack forty all day long, even with the sun shining, it’s the perfect time to dice up some onions, mushroom, and peppers, and get a pasta sauce simmering on the kitchen wood-stove. We don’t need to add basil or garlic because I included those in the processed marinara sauce last summer.
We just think of the wood-stove as our go-to winter crock pot, since it goes around the clock when the temps drop down this low, and there is snow on the ground.
GF Mama had to ask me to rustle her up some of my concoctions, because they are scattered around the pantry and kitchen storage areas like Easter eggs hidden in the flower garden in the side yard. You have to hunt for the goodness in order to enjoy it.
 |
Luckily, I have a photographic memory when it comes to my tomatoes; I know them and they know me.
They know I watched the gophers attack in the early going, last June, and that I got a little panicky there for a minute or two, when the two hundred-plus tomato plants just did not seem that interested in playing ball. I was slightly taken aback, having prepped the nine rows in the orchard, and Tomato Terrace, in the back yard, which housed 44 Ace tomato plants.
Originally, quite by accident I can assure you, I ended up with 45 Aces in Tomato Terrace, but I certainly could not abide with that, so I transplanted one out to the orchard, and felt much better. We all have to do that, which allows us to continue to hang on by the skin of our teeth, until our ship comes in this November, and we can breathe again.
My tomatoes began life in soil amended by my own home-prepared compost, gathered over the previous year from dead organic plant material, and heavily supplemented by both chicken and rabbit manure. Soaked and tarped throughout the summer, fall and winter, I turned the whole pile over by hand in late February, and distributed it in May.
 |
| Summer on simmer... |
“My little tomatoes are not happy. They should be going off like gangbusters, and they’re not. And the gophers are having a field day.”
“Why don’t you hit them up with some fertilizer?” he asked, “I’ll bring you a fifty pound sack of the pellets. They’re organic and what you do is put a little pile of the pellets next to each of the emitters, so that the water dripping out every six inches along the line, will come into contact with the pellets.”
It all sounded so simple.
“How much is a little pile?” I inquired.
“Maybe a quarter of a cup?”
“And I spend the pellets out every six inches along the emitter hose?”
“Yup. You’ll see. The pellets will slowly dissolve into the soil, spreading all of those necessary components to where they can do the most good.”
When all was said and done as Reggae on the River approached, towards the end of July, I was still uneasy. I asked HSBuster to walk out into the orchard yet once more, to assess the situation.
“Why are my Heinz tomatoes looking like cherry tomatoes, instead of regular-sized tomatoes? I should have triple the size from what I’m seeing. I’m baffled. I mean, more so than usual.”
Magic words to my ears, I restrained myself admirably from doing a cartwheel, and leaped instead onto his suggestion. Immediately, the entire orchard came to life, to the point where I had to actually reduce the water because the ripening tomatoes had begun to crack.
With this formula firmly staple-gunned to the interior of my cottage cheese brain, I will be ready for next spring’s foray into the world of tomatoes. I am planting fewer Heinz tomato plants, but counting on getting an even greater yield out of them, now that I have ironed out a few of these minor details.
My compost pile is a third again bigger than last year’s, my ground-cover crop is flourishing and I am itching to get out and start pitch-forking. It’s good for the body and good for the soul, and results in the best dang salsa and hot sauce on the mountain.
Popping open the seal on a quart of cold pack tomatoes, transports me back to summer more effectively than even the smell of barbecued chicken. Heck, anyone can fire up a barbecue and grill chicken, but not everyone can recapture summer with the smell of home-grown tomatoes.
 |
| You like catsup? Flavored with smoked paprika? Come see us... |
No comments:
Post a Comment