My wife, Sweet Tomato, made a tomato salad with dinner last night. The tomatoes, Cory’s Grandpa (orange & yellow), Michael Pollan (green) and Abraham Lincoln (red) were picked from my garden about an hour before dinner. Sweet Tomato laid down a bed of lettuce and arugula, sliced the tomatoes and arranged them on the plate. She added green scallions and a drizzle of olive oil. The result was a simple but incomparable dish that rivals or exceeds anything you can obtain at an expensive restaurant. But wait, it gets better; open a bottle of red wine, cut some crusty bread, and dine in the company of the loveliest girl in the world.
It doesn’t get much better than this.