etc.

I didn’t pull out the sliced tomato from my coffee-shop sandwich to-day.

This is a giant leap forward for me because, you see, I’ve hated tomatoes for as long as I can remember (although I’ve always been happy to consume tomato derivatives like juice and ketchup), I’ve always been a little averse to something about them, most likely their texture. Lately I’ve regretted this aversion because, to me, the tomato is summer in a fruit — everything about their ripe, red goodness declares warm, crisp sunshine. I don’t think any other fruit so perfectly embodies a season (except perhaps apples do of Autumn), which has had me aggrieved enough to embark upon a secret little campaign that declared summer 2004 as The Summer of Tomato. I started small, allowing nondescript amounts of tomato into cooked meals. Then there were the little cubes in my salad last week. And finally to-day, generous slices stuffed between two halves of a baguette, with cheese and some leaves for company. And guess what? I loved it. It was summer in a sandwich. What could be better?

Two other things that have resulted in a belting chorus and ringing of bells to-day: two new knitting books out soon. Laaaa!