Tomatoist - The True Chicagoist Story

By Kevin Grzyb in Food on Jun 3, 2005 5:46PM

Chicagoist has had a shitty morning. I mean a running for the bus that goes flying by, waiting for the next one, sitting in construction traffic, two trains because the late bus made us miss the Evanston Express, all with a two year old in tow, who tripped and smacked his cute little cranium into a hand rail on the way into day care where we sat for another half hour with and ice pack on a massive goose egg, kind of morning. Now, what does all this have to do with tomatoes, not a fucking thing, but it’s my post and I’m feeling like sharing (i.e. bitching).

So, getting off my rant and back to the tomato issue. We gave up on our seedlings in the last Tomatoist update, only to see the little guys take a week of sun and warmth and come back strong, like a certain baseball team that we know and love. This year is going to be a long haul for the tomato crop, since the seedlings are just at the point of splitting into the second tier of leaves and we’re already into June. They should have been in the dirt two weeks ago at a minimum. So, at best the great Chicagoist tomato festival will fall into the end of September, or at worst we’ll be making a huge batch of fried green tomatoes in early October. Either way they’ll still be better than the ones that we had from the grocery store the other day in a Memorial Day pasta salad.

A few people have asked to know the story that we’ve referred to about the great tomato tragedy of aught four. Well, we had a plan in place to do some experimental tomato rooftop gardening on our apartment building. We went through all the proper channels and even got approval from our landlord (because the promise of fresh tomatoes is a powerful ally). Five gallon buckets were obtained from a caterer that we use from work, and we set them up on the roof, filled them with dirt and our secret mix of fertilizer and magic growing stuff, irrigation was addressed, support cages and squirrel security countermeasures were in place. We were ready. For the love of all that is good, we were even gonna call it the Mayor Richard M. Daley Rooftop Tomato Sanctuary and Meditative Bean Garden, y’know, ‘cause he’s all about the inner city green space. So as Chicagoist climbed up the ladder toward the hatch that gives us access to our urban oasis, our secret rooftop Shangri-la, a gust of Chicago’s own, windy city style breeze came from out of nowhere and swept the tray of seedlings out of or hand and smashed them on the porch below, breaking the gentle seedlings all. We wept and then we swore, I mean we swore like a trucker that got cut off by an asshole on the phone in a SUV in rush hour traffic on a Friday afternoon in late July on the Dan Ryan with broken AC in the cab and flaring hemorrhoids. So that night we closed the hatch and gave up our dream of a fresh BLT for the year. Until our friends and neighbors, and a farmer’s market or two, helped us through.

So, stay with us as we follow the plight of our new batch of seedlings as they prepare for the next stage, we’re hoping to get them transplanted in the next week. And by the way, do us a solid; if you see the seedling out at a show or playing volleyball on North Avenue beach this weekend, don’t mention last year’s little accident, they don’t know.

Previously: The Greatest Rite of Spring (Tomatoes Part I), Tomatoes Part II – Chicagoist Gets Seedy, Tomatoist