The Ingredient Decides

There is a point every summer when the tomatoes finally become tomatoes again.

Not the pale, refrigerated kind we convince ourselves will do in February. (Pro tip: never refrigerate tomatoes, they lose all their flavor.) The kind that are still warm from the garden, fragrant before the knife even touches them, and just soft enough to promise they’ll drip down your wrist.

Those are the tomatoes that make lunch embarrassingly simple.

A slice of toasted bread.

A swipe of mayonnaise.

A generous sprinkle of flaky salt.

Freshly cracked black pepper.

Tomatoes.

That’s it.

No basil. No burrata. No balsamic glaze. No elaborate sandwich architecture stacked six inches high.

Just enough to remind you that the best ingredients don’t ask for much.

Every year, I tell myself I’ll do something ambitious with the first tomatoes from the garden. Maybe a tart. A slow-roasted sauce. A beautiful salad worthy of a dinner party.

Every year, the tomatoes have other plans.

They insist on becoming sandwiches.

And they’re right.

Because when something is this good, your job isn’t to improve it.

Your job is simply not to get in its way.

Is it even summer if you haven’t had an open-faced tomato sandwich made with tomatoes from your garden?

♥︎ Heather