Tomato Wars

Every spring the Farm Manager puts in a very modest kitchen garden. A few herbs, and some tomatoes. There’s only so much you can squeeze into a ten by ten space.

One thing I’ve consistently enjoyed about life on this earth is dining. Next to intimate encounters of the extra-special kind, there’s nothing like a good feed to make you grateful for having been born. I could write a book on my evolution as a foodie.

Well, not really. I have some expertise in burgers and fries, and I’m always interested in trying new stuff, but mostly, after food experimentation safaris to many destinations, I tend to come back to burgers and fries.

But there’s one thing that’ll blow the doors off burgers and fries any day of the week, and that’s a big fat slice of vine-fresh tomato on a piece of fresh-baked sourdough bread. With a generous slathering of genuine Canadian tariff-protected butter, of course.

The problem with this fabulous tomato harvest is that all the tomatoes come due at the same time. For about three or four weeks at the end of summer I’d have to eat about two dozen tomato sandwiches every day to keep up with the crop. Fortunately, the FM freezes them up for spaghetti sauce next winter.

In spite of her best efforts, there remain many orphan tomatoes scattered about the garden, and this has piqued the interest of the hounds. They’re constantly prancing about the yard with tomatoes hanging out of their snouts.

Some tomatoes, though, are worth more than others. Boomer has been guarding a special tomato for at least a week now. She starts growling whenever Phil gets within ten feet. Phil over-compensates by fetching her own Roma tomato and racing back and forth, jumping over Boomsie with every turn.

So when I fetched them in the house tonight, Boomer abandoned her post and headed in. Silly Phil  was out in the yard and thus had occasion to pass by the special tomato.

Unguarded.

It took ten minutes to pry her past the special tomato.

What’s so special about the special tomato?

Near as I can tell, the only thing special about the special tomato is that somebody else wants it.