The Wisdom of Tomatoes.

Please allow me to just get something out of the way.

With all the good intentions and positive energy in the world, I came down this morning and did NOT make biscuits for my boys. And by "did NOT make biscuits," I mean of course that I pulled out all the ingredients and did exactly as I have watched my mother do approximately one hundred million (100,000,000) times in that comfortable, casual, effortless way that she has in the kitchen. My result was of course as always, flat dense hard floury hockey pucks!

Those of you who know me will recall the ways in which I have suffered over biscuits in the past and those of you who don't yet, warning, this will not likely be the last you hear of the perpetual self mutilation of my culinary ego.

In the interest of preserving any hope of a cheerful productive day, I have decided to focus this, my inaugural blog entry, on a more successful recent culinary effort.

A friend of mine posted an interesting comment on facebook this morning and the irony was just the spark I needed to fire this engine.

She advised, "knowledge is being aware that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put a tomato in fruit cocktail." Indeed.

And yet . . . my Grandma Webb was unquestionably possessed of immeasurable amounts of both knowledge and wisdom but she was also supremely practical and incredibly creative person, particularly in the kitchen. Grandma raised nine children starting in the 1930's in the central Appalachian mountains of West Virgina. By the time I came around she had also had a hand in raising two or three dozen grandchildren. There was another dozen or two after me but whenever there were mouths to feed or, for that matter, food to be eaten, my Grandma could go to the kitchen and produce a truly remarkable meal from what often seemed to be a bowl of leftovers in the fridge, a mason jar of something put up from last summer, and half a box of something else from the pantry under the stairs. It was often a stew or a soup or sometimes a casserole and it usually contained things that conventional "wisdom" might not combine but it was always really, really, good. Grandma's "technique" of bravely combining whatever "ingredients" she had on hand is now affectionately referred to as "Webb Stew."

It is with a wink and a nod to my Grandma Webb and a thumb of my nose to conventional "wisdom" that I raided the crisper drawer of our fridge last night for a fresh salad to accompany the leftover beans and rice from the night before. Here is my recipe for "Webb Wisdom Fruit Cocktail." Have faith my friends. It never failed Grandma.















WEBB WISDOM FRUIT COCKTAIL

1/2 fresh pineapple (diced into 1/2 inch cubes)
1 cup of fresh blueberries
1 cup of cherry tomatoes, halved
1/2 large cucumber, peeled and seeded and diced to 1/2 inch
1/2 cup shredded carrots
juice of half a lemon
2 tbsp. salad oil
1 tbsp. chopped fresh oregano
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients and toss to season and coat in lemon vinaigrette.

Now, there is no question that this salad will initially attract some strange looks and even an obscenely contorted expression of disgust from a chronically finicky four year old who undeniably loves each of these ingredients when served by their puritanically minimalist lonesome. However, after convincing everyone at the table that life as we know it would not come to a catastrophically painful end by tasting this salad they all ate and most importantly enjoyed my creative combination. The wonderfully sweet and slightly citrussy cherry tomatoes were from our own vines, an heirloom variety called "cerise." We also grew the cucumber, a bright white heirloom variety with a clean mild flavor and an incredible crunch. The oregano too came from my garden, primarily because that's what I had the most of. Thyme or tarragon or even mint would be great. Any good fresh berries would be a fine substitute for the blueberries and had I not been already really pushing the envelope with the delicate palates of Kris and the boys, I might have snipped in a few chives or a little green onion.

The point is when it comes to loving and providing for a family, sometimes conventional "wisdom" doesn't hold all the answers. I think one should know the rules and challenge them often. Tomatoes, it turns out, are great in "fruit cocktail."

I didn't know it then but Grandma was teaching some truly invaluable lessons when she set to work in the kitchen and this probably won't be last you hear of those lessons either. Thanks Grandma.