My Little Obsession and a Small Tribute to a Sister

It's the little things that remind me of being back in California, like fresh, warm from the sun, garden tomatoes. I pick some basil, and it snaps with moisture. It garnishes the succulent buffalo mozzarella I splurge on at the grocery store. Some salt, fresh-cracked pepper, EVOO, and balsamic vinegar, and poof! I have my favorite Summer snack.

I also sometimes add thinly sliced bell pepper (any color but green - yuck), and sprinkle goat cheese instead of mozz, thyme sprigs instead of basil. Easy on the balsamic for this one.



Admittedly, every time I pop one of these sugary, hot tomatoes in my mouth - not even bothering to wash them since I know exactly where they've been - I think of my little sister, Charlee, and my mouth turns sad.



I miss my sisters, and when I eat garden fresh tomatoes, I think of Charlee - born to be a grandmother before anything else in life - and her millions of tomatoes in our Dad's side yard. I remember enjoying/resenting those massive bags of surplus tomatoes she'd bring me and I'd attempt not to waste. I miss her guilt trips if she saw the bag just sitting on my counter, days later. I miss her unnecessarily detailed stories - epic tales - about how each tomato has been doing, how the sun was treating them, etc. She never hesitates to pour her soul into everything she does. There is no such thing as pacing for her, nor withholding. She is a 20-something granny with the gusto of a freedom fighter, even in her vegetable garden.

And you could taste those feelings in each of a million freaking tomatoes, osmosis transference of Charlee. Miss you, Tuggi.