Lazy Summers and Fresh Tomatoes

The smell of fresh tomatoes always reminds me of my summers in the valley of Dukat where my grandparents lived. My grandfather grew beautiful tomatoes each summer, and it was a good thing, because each summer my family would take long trips to Vlora, one of the major coastal Albanian cities. Both my parents were from villages surrounding Vlora, which signified numerous visits in Dukat, meals shared with a great number of people, staying up late, attempting to ride my grandfather’s sheep, climbing fig trees, and other fun adventures. My grandfather, Bab Shefqet, lived in an old stone house surrounded by fruit trees and beautiful vegetable gardens. That part of the world is particularly sunny, which means that summers tend to be hot and dry. Being that Bab Shefqet loved to garden – one of his many talents – he devised a beautiful and very effective irrigation system of mini gutters that were in direct connection to the fresh spring up the mountain, about a 10 minute steep hike from the house. The gutters stretched, weaved, and turned every which way, making sure to provide the needed moisture to the gardens, and when time for crops came, it was glorious. Bab Shefqeti guarded the gardens from the rambunctious grandchildren - like yours truly - who liked to pick the not quite ripe tomatoes.

In an attempt to remedy this destructive tendency once and for all, on one of our summer visits, Bab Shefqeti asked me to follow him into the garden. This was frightening. Was I in trouble? No, not really. He just took me where a tomato vine, heavy laden with blushing orbs, had given birth to a perfectly ripe one. Bab Shefqeti picked it, smelled it and said: “See? Smell it. This is a ripe tomato.”

I was reminded of that smell as I walked in the grocery store yesterday, 3-year old Jack safely loaded in the cart. I felt it for a fleeting second, long enough to make myself turn around and search for the red lovelies. And I found them, sitting pretty in a large bin, with a .99c/lb sign on top. I bought 5 pounds and I happily told Jack: “Këto janë domate. Mmmmm…” (“These are tomatoes”) He rubbed his tummy and his best pretend voice said: “I love tomatoes, mommy.” I wish he really did. But it is a start, and soon enough he will love them, I hope.

I like to eat my tomatoes in a plain tomato and sweet onion salad (will share this with you soon), but I made a version of bruschetta instead, for a group of good friends who came over for dinner. I added mint and oregano in place of the basil, and it was delicious. It brought back memories of vegetable-filled summers, lazy afternoons under my grandparents grape vine covered porch, sipping freshly squeezed fruit juices, listening to my grandfather’s recitation of epic Albanian poetry, flies buzzing, dogs barking, donkeys braying.
I tried to get Jack to try it, but he claimed that it had green yuckies on it. Oh well. At least, I think he loves the smell.

Tomato, Mint, and Oregano Bruschetta

Ingredients:

5 fresh tomatoes, diced
3 cloves of garlic
2 tablespoons fresh oregano, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh mint, chopped
2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
pinch of sugar

1 fresh baguette

-Toss the diced tomatoes in a colander with the salt and let sit for 10-15 minutes. This will remove the excess juice. I usually save this juice and add it to soups, vinaigrettes, etc.
-Crush the garlic with a pestle and mortar, or with a garlic press. Make sure it is well crushed.
-In a mixing bowl mix the drained tomatoes, garlic, oregano, mint, olive oil, and sugar. Toss well to combine.
-Serve with fresh baguette slices as an appetizer, or as a light lunch.

Ju bëftë mirë! (Bon appetit!).
-E.