When I was a college student at UC Davis a kid named Bill lived down the hall from me in the Pierce Coop dormitory. Bill had grown up near Pleasanton in a gated community with a golf course and his father was a senior executive with the Bank of America. Bill’s privileged upbringing left him enraged at authority and hungering for an authentic life filled with want and struggle. So one day Bill stole a big sack of tomatoes from a field near the campus to make salsa for a party and the farmer caught him. “You’re never going to steal my tomatoes again,” said the farmer.
“Why not?” Bill asked. Bill believed that farmers are rich landowners and should share their crops with The People whether they want to or not. “What are you going to do; kill me?”
“No,” said the farmer. “But the tomatoes don’t taste good.”
via Farmer Andy Griffin at www.ladybugletter.com
from Andy Griffin's Ladybug Newsletter... read the rest at the link! I belong to his CSA.
Right now, Andy's tomatoes are so yummy raw right out of the ground that I just slice them up and make Harriet the Spy sandwiches— remember those? Harriet liked tomatoes and mayonnaise on white bread, with NOTHING else. I allow for black pepper.
If I can't keep up with the tomato supply, I cook up the extras into the best tomato sauce you ever had. I stand by that.
Photo: Courtoly's self-portrait set
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