Any way you slice it...

A scream of horror, mixed with frustration and outrage resounded into the morning suburban air as Sue opened the garage door.  There, in the middle of the driveway, next to her garden was a most hideous sight - a lone, well-ripened tomato sat silently on the concrete.  A victim.  The hapless fruit had been eviscerated.  Its innards pecked out, leaving a hollowed hemisphere of pulpy flesh clinging to the underside of its reddening skin.  The King of the Summer Garden, born of golden blossoms, enthroned upon royally distinctive deep green stems and leaves from whence it lords over all other fruits and vegetables from within Castle Tomato-Cage, the once red and mighty tomato king is now dead.  Sue's first tomato of the season was now only suited to be tossed upon the compost pile like the puny weeds of the realm.

While she was dressing that fateful morning, some bird had swooped into her garden and plucked the very first tomato of the season right off the plant and left its dying and drying in the rising Texas sun.  Scion of The House of Nightshade - we hardly knew ye!

Now, while the tomatoes are mostly green, with just a blush of red, they are picked and brought into the kitchen, where they are ripened in brown paper bags on the counter and checked frequently for readiness.  At last, when Sue can wait no longer, I am summoned into the kitchen: "Here, smell this!" is the command as she embeds the tomato into my mustache.  I inhale heartily and yes, it is the smell of summer.  A ripe, firm tomato from her own garden!  We marvel and sing its praises as we joyfully fall into the traditional Suneson Dance of First Fruits around the kitchen.  Of course, with its bold aroma and pungent taste far superior to the store-bought varieties, the First Tomato is not to be adulterated with any other food combinations that would detract form its solitary wonderfulness, such as a topping for a burger or used in a stew.  No, the First Tomato is to be sliced and eaten in all of its glory, savored in noble isolation.  And so it was.

Now that the assassins have been thwarted, any way you slice it, gota love those home-grown 'maters!

Long live the Tomato - King of the Summer Garden