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magidJust a bit more than a third of a tomato minute...
Sort through to pull the ones that are in good shape (about 4 pounds), mostly the little red ones with small yellow-gold stripes.
Start chopping some of the rest.
Notice there's a paper cut on the finger that the tomato juice has found.
Persevere in chopping tomatoes until the soup pot on the stove is two-thirds full and bubbling.
Realize that the knees would like a break: check email and do some sudoku puzzles.
Dice enough tomatoes to fill two baking trays, along with a bit of onion, olive oil, and salt and pepper. Roast.
Start chopping what's left, now that what's in the pot has evaporated over an inch and is looking cooked.
Realize that slightly overripe plum tomatoes practically peel themselves when the seeds are squeezed out.
Realize it would've been smart to squeeze the seeds out of the earlier batch, but acknowledge it would've taken too long.
Realize that there's not enough time for the tomatoes to finish cooking down before bed; package up the roasted onions and garlic intended to be added at the end.
Debate cooking the sauce overnight, on a flame tamer.
Decide it's too nerve-wracking; unstressed sleep is more important.
Eat the tray of mostly-yellow roasted tomatoes.
Feel stuffed.
Shower to get the tomato that's worked its way under the fingernails out.
Ponder tomato salad and pizza for the morrow.
Go to bed. *thud*
Sort through to pull the ones that are in good shape (about 4 pounds), mostly the little red ones with small yellow-gold stripes.
Start chopping some of the rest.
Notice there's a paper cut on the finger that the tomato juice has found.
Persevere in chopping tomatoes until the soup pot on the stove is two-thirds full and bubbling.
Realize that the knees would like a break: check email and do some sudoku puzzles.
Dice enough tomatoes to fill two baking trays, along with a bit of onion, olive oil, and salt and pepper. Roast.
Start chopping what's left, now that what's in the pot has evaporated over an inch and is looking cooked.
Realize that slightly overripe plum tomatoes practically peel themselves when the seeds are squeezed out.
Realize it would've been smart to squeeze the seeds out of the earlier batch, but acknowledge it would've taken too long.
Realize that there's not enough time for the tomatoes to finish cooking down before bed; package up the roasted onions and garlic intended to be added at the end.
Debate cooking the sauce overnight, on a flame tamer.
Decide it's too nerve-wracking; unstressed sleep is more important.
Eat the tray of mostly-yellow roasted tomatoes.
Feel stuffed.
Shower to get the tomato that's worked its way under the fingernails out.
Ponder tomato salad and pizza for the morrow.
Go to bed. *thud*