The Greatest Rite of Spring (that doesn’t involve the Cubs, sort of)

By Kevin Grzyb in Food on Mar 17, 2005 7:45PM

“Ain't nothin' in the world that I like better
Than bacon & lettuce & homegrown tomatoes
Up in the mornin' out in the garden
Get you a ripe one don't get a hard one
Plant `em in the spring eat `em in the summer
All winter with out `em's a culinary bummer
I forget all about the sweatin' & diggin'
Everytime I go out & pick me a big one

Homegrown tomatoes homegrown tomatoes
What'd life be without homegrown tomatoes
Only two things that money can't buy
That's true love & homegrown tomatoes”
From Guy Clark’s ‘Homegrown Tomatoes’

It seems as though it’s been an eternity since last summer, this winter dragged it’s sorry gray ass into our city last November and hasn’t moved since. The real bitch of it is that as the cold creeps its way in (we’re sure the Canadians have something to do with it) and covers the sleeping city with that first overnight frost, it signifies the end of an event, a death, in a way…no more homegrown, vine ripened, garden fresh tomatoes.

But then comes March and Chicagoist is giddy, that’s right baby, GIDDY with the magical prospect that is a new batch of tomatoes in our gardens. Now you may be asking yourself (or the cube monkey next to you) ‘Has Chicagoist gone crazy? These tomatoes of which you speak don’t grace our gardens, farmer's markets or palates until August, it’s a bit presumptuous to taunt us with the culinary temptations of such a temporally distant delight.’ but I say “NAY!” We’re so sane that we only seem crazy.

Chicagoist has grown tomatoes in our backyard, in friends and neighbors backyards, on balconies and porches and on the roof of our apartment to varying degrees of success and satisfaction. We started at about 12 years old and have been hooked ever since. Those mealy, hard, chemically sprayed, picked while green abominations that they sell at grocery stores and chop on sandwiches and salads at lesser restaurants don’t hold a candle to the joy of coming home after a long, hot summer day, pouring a tall ice filled glass of rosemary-lemonade (with optional vodka, of course), going to the garden and plucking a juicy, ripe, still warm from the afternoon sun tomato off the vine, gingerly slicing it as the juices run across the cutting board, a little slice of fresh buffalo mozzarella on top, a basil leaf tops each slice, pinch of salt (good salt) and fresh cracked pepper. Drag the TV out onto the porch, pull up a chair and sit back and watch the Cubbies and enjoy the flavors, sounds and smells of summer as the breeze kicks up just enough to get you to notice, give a liitle nod and hope it's blowing out.

This year we’re going to invite you along as we attempt to create a hanging garden by growing tomato plant inverted from the bottom of hanging planters and back up on the roof. I’ll get into the great seedling massacre of 2004 that derailed the rooftop garden last year; I just can’t bring myself to talk about it yet.

Next up: Seeds, seedlings and seeding or Chicagoist Gets Seedy

Image via www.tomatofest.com