I wanted a couple of tomatoes for a new salad recipe.  It’s August in North Carolina–luscious, ripe tomatoes smelling of Mother Earth are everywhere.  That was the problem.

Where to go for my tomatoes?

1. Harris Teeter (the grocery store)–the big, big one or the smaller one with less stuff?  I could get the rest of what we needed all in one trip.  That meant less use of the car and a smaller carbon footprint, but probably a disappointing tomato.

2.  Farmer’s Market–the one by the baseball stadium, the newer one downtown, or the huge one out by the highway?  I could help the local farmers.

3.  Deep Roots (the co-op grocery)–more limited selection and often crowded, but guaranteed local and quickest to get out of.

4.  Earth Fare (like Whole Foods, but a NC chain)–I’d have to choose between organic and conventional and get past the amazing cheese selection.

I was immobilized by the abundance of tomato sources.  The more I thought about it, the less I wanted tomatoes.

Is it whining to say I’m tired of having so many choices?  Have you bought toothpaste or salad dressing lately?  Try picking a chicken soup for your soul or a cereal to feed your inner child.

I KNOW how fortunate I am to have choices and money to pay for my tomatoes.  It feels wrong to complain about abundance.  But my brain gets tired sorting all the information for each set of choices.  I do want to make the “right” choice for me, for my family, and for the survival of this planet.

(Oh, please.)

I bought a tomato yesterday at the smaller Harris Teeter.  It was easiest at the end of a draining day.  But I may have to go to Deep Roots today.  Fresh mozzarella deserves more than a grocery store tomato.

Published in: on August 26, 2010 at 5:13 pm  Comments (3)  
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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. What’s that recipe for a southern tomato sandwich? Two slices of fresh white bread (even though my kitchen usually has only whole wheat bread), mayonnaise slathered on thickly, a sun-warm fresh tomato sliced, a little salt and pepper. Then lean over the kitchen sink to eat the sandwich and let the juices run down your chin and into the sink. Thanks for this post, Robin. It made me think about a good, ol’, wonderful, tomato sandwich.

    • Donna, I’ve tried making a tomato sandwich on wheat bread. NOT the same!

  2. And I can really identify with the part about often having too many choices, also.

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