‘Normally the shelves are full and 2 or 3 boxes deep of tomatoes,’ writes Slightly
Fewer tomatoes.
Something serious?
Or just a hiccup?
Slightly Bemused writes:
Late last night I felt a little peckish, so I decided to make a sandwich. Something in me was crying out for pizza, but I held that back. Pizza keeps me awake for some reason. And it usually involves a film, and a beverage.
I am a fan of thin-crust pizzas, and love to eat the main part of the pizza, enjoying the mix of flavours and the fun of chasing my food before it flops off the side of the slice. Eaten all the way to the crust, I never understood those who folded the triangle in on itself. Doing that puts the base between your tongue and the toppings, blocking the luxurious explosion of culinary satisfaction. Then set the curved crust aside, and on to the next slice.
Don’t worry, I do not abandon my crusts, and a number of people trying to nab them have felt the sharp slap of my hand. Because this is where the beverage comes into its own. I like to sit back, watching the evolving plot of the film while nibbling on the crunchy crusts and sipping at something to wash them down.
As a result, I was never a real fan of stuffed crust pizzas, with cheese inside the rim of the world of dining excellence. Not that I do not like them, but they are not crunchy, and do not lend themselves to nibbling in quite the same way. Besides, they give me hiccups.
Hiccups are funny things, and sometimes hard to stop. I do have a method, but always chuckle at my own gullibility remembering when my older brother would tell me to drink a glass of water upside down. Now, you are supposed to sort of lie back (a chair is a better option than balance-challenged me trying a headstand) and sip the water so it goes up your body.
There are pictures showing this. But it is no help when you have a brother who shows you said illustration upside down. And I end up trying to figure out how to turn my full glass of water upside down and then sip it, and wonder at my now wet chest and embarrassing trousers.
But it did usually cure the hiccups, I will say that.
For me, the one that works best is the deep breath and sip air option. Basically, this is where you breathe out as much as you can, then after a pause (likely interspersed with a hiccup or two) slowly take a deep but not full breath. Then, holding that, take small gentle ‘sips’ of air. If you hiccup, hold for a moment, and continue the sips. When you can no longer hold it, breathe out fully and deeply, but not rapidly. In my experience, I have only ever had to do two cycles, and I am now fit to meet the world without whooping my speech.
Sandwiches, thankfully, are less challenging in the diaphragm gymnastics stakes. And tonight’s was a simple affair: fresh sliced bread, filled with a slice of ham, a bit of cheese, and some tomato. Classic.
And here I had to chuckle. I went shopping yesterday (hence the fresh bread) and noted that there are few tomatoes on the shelves. As I already had some, I was not worried, but I was curious as usually in my supermarket the whole line of the aisle is just filled with various varieties of the little red lovelies. Some with green bits attached, some tasteless but enticingly red, and occasionally the wonderful giants that are beef tomatoes, one slice of which would be a sandwich maker’s dream.
But the shelves are barren, with a few forlorn looking slightly green cherry tomatoes huddling up to the one or two larger loose vine tomatoes, as if for comfort from their distant cousins. What is this?
Never mind hoarding your toilet paper, think maybe on the staples of food.
It seems that a few things have happened together. An unexpected cold snap across the Mediterranean lands has meant their crops, of many types, are not yet properly ripe. Rising fuel cost for transport has led to suppliers holding off sending what they have until they can consolidate loads. The need to transit through what is now a ‘third party country’ has added complications.
What interested me was the fact that Morocco has banned sales of the little scarlet tykes. Drought has caused a reduction in the crop, and the country is seeking to protect its home market prices so locals can afford them. Laudable. Similar is happening with other countries across the Sahel and Maghreb and beyond, with Egypt restricting exports of lentils, and Argentina restricting soy beans.
But this may give a chance for the Irish producers to shine. With the harvest coming soon, hopefully we will see locally grown tomatoes and other produce in the stalls. And with it, hopefully better prices for the producers.
What amuses me about this is that when I was looking up why no love apples, I first found out on a particular culinary page devoted to ‘fine cuisine’. The amount of comments lamenting the lack, and wondering how their precious meals will survive without every known item of food to hand is beyond farcical. How will they manage when they can only get local foodstuffs as nature decides they are ready. How can they make a hearty Marrakesh Bestilla at the wrong time of year?
That many of these exotic dishes developed, like our own, around what was available at what times seems to be missed. It is the joy of fresh new foods at differing times of year that excites and satiates the palate. Having them available 24/7/365 robs them of the very vibrancy they offer. Make them less worth the wait.
So as I use my favourite knife to slice my rare tomato I wonder what I will do with my last remaining couple before the next crop rolls in. Fried with eggs and rashers? Cut for a kebab skewer, with seasonal meats and onion? Or chopped for a nice salsa, with a little latin music to wash it down?
Slightly Bemused‘s column appears here every Wednesday.
Pic by Slightly
Get ready to see much more and far higher prices
Price gouging is truly endemic
I went down to Lidl the other night specifically to get tomato puree for a red thai curry
NONE. Zero pureed tomatoes.
Acres and acres of tinned chopped tomatoes, and I thought, that’s odd, right? you’d think the puree is just what they do with the leftover bits of the chopped tomatoes destined for the tins. Thus where you find the tinned tomatoes, you should also find the pureed tomatoes.
But there was none. Still is none as of last night.
Were you looking for tomato puree, as found in a tube or fiddly little tin? Or was it passata, sieved/strained tomato?
Not to be condescending (because I’ve had to make the puree/passata distinction on more than one occasion), because if it’s passata, you can buy chopped tinned tomatoes and crush them with a potato masher and it will give you the same, or near enough, result. Always handy in a pinch.
I’d kill for pizza and a beer right now.
Meh.
Toms are tasteless this time of year.
They’re all grown under plastic in the Canaries and you’d be better of chewing eczema flakes.
a big yes to seasonal !
Aye, it’s like strawberries.
They’re huge this year.
But taste of nothing. Even sliced up in a gin and tonton.
I’d rather wait until the summer.
We grew a glut of tomato last summer and they totally changed my opinion on tomato. Absolutely unreal, the difference in taste was something else.
Not much of a tomato eater, but I was picking the cherry tomatoes and eating them like sweeties.
Same absolutely does apply to strawberries. No comparison at all.
You’ve never tasted a tomato till you’ve had an organic tomato food of love indeed.
On our recent sunshine sojourn Lady TenPin and I were very impressed with the local sun-grown herb.
Very mellow and not at all mongey.
Everyone seemed to have a few plants in their back yard.
I loves me a bit of local horticulture.
Great piece!