The answer is easy: when it's garbage.
Shakespeare was onto something - writing of roses, names and smelling sweet. Was that Will Shakespeare? I know it was attributed to him, but was it really him? So many discussions about that. A phrase written by any other name might not have been as well received.
Flipped that one on you, didn't I, Willy?
But tomatoes are what stirred my thoughts today. So let's not tarry on that rose rabbit trail and scurry back to the vermilion fruit. Fruits, not vegetables. Tomatoes are fruits.
Vermilion? Yes, a must. A tomato by any other hue would not taste as lush.
Right, Willy. You got me there.
Remember when they began studying the difference between modified foods and natural? I do. I distinctly remember thinking: a tomato is a tomato. If it's grown in the ground or a lab, what could possibly be the difference?
My mind was tricked (by some media wizardry, no doubt) into purchasing the lab-produced versions for quite some time - especially when they were half off in the produce section! I'm fond of savings, aren't you?
However, I noticed something. In time, I began disliking tomatoes.
As a child, I can recall every detail of walking to the garden at the end of summer and plucking a ripe tomato. The feel of the warm, golden rays. The gurgle of the nearby creek over smooth stones. The slight, dusty feel to the garden-ripe fruit. The scent of green surrounding me.
Biting into that skin held such anticipation! The tart juices flowing across my lips and down my chin! The feel of the firm flesh and spherical gel-covered seeds swirling over my teeth and tongue. My delight was so intense, it was almost a shame to swallow! But one greedy glance into my garden assured me I could eat to my heart's content. Swallow, bite, savor and swallow again!
Had my palette changed as I grew into adulthood? What had happened to that delicious delight?
I knew not. Only that if I spied a slice of my old friend gracing a sandwich, I scrunched my nose and flipped it aside with disdain.
Until 2005. (My, I've aged. How time flies.)
A friend had invited us over to lunch, and before we dined, we went to the garden. A tad messy, the garden seemed to reach through the fence with vines and tendrils, stretching towards me?
The scent is what triggered me first. I knew that scent. Still shots began firing in my mind like a slideshow, leading me back to those summer days of my childhood.
"Here, put this one in the basket. Pop this one in your mouth." Grinning with awareness, it was as if my friend was foreseeing my reawakening. Good farmers have a sixth sense with food, don't you agree?
As he transferred the tomato to my trembling fingers, the feel triggered me next. I knew that feel.
Moving it up to my mouth, I could almost feel my eyes dilating. My mouth closed, my teeth pierced, my tastebuds sang the Hallelujah chorus immediately before they cried out again in anguish!
"HORROR! THE YEARS WE'VE WASTED! TREACHERY - THY NAME IS MODIFIED!"
They didn't really speak. Imagine the terror if tastebuds had little vocal cords? But that is what I heard in my head. I merely assumed it had to have come from the little sensors on my tongue. Who else would have had cause to cry out in such a manner? After all, they were the ones who had been denied this exquisite experience for decades!
And so ends my tomato tale.
Some things cannot be manufactured. A tomato is not always a tomato. When we look for shortcuts, we will often be slowly killing off the important details that make life what it is. Time, sunshine, water, insects, soil, managing, pruning, weeding, inspection, patience, harvesting - these are steps that should not be overlooked in the growth of a true tomato.
What are the things in your life that you are cutting out at the expense of the final flavor? Add them back in. It's never too late to rediscover that hard work can bring a joyful and meaningful appreciation for the fruits of your labor.
Have you ever had a tomato cupcake? @crazy-unicorn, @jamerussell, @brittandjosie, @thekittygirl, @rycharde? I haven't either.