When Life Gives You Green Tomatoes

Another in my series of “I don’t have anything to say about my garden” posts.

The weather here in Portland has… mostly… sucked.  First we did the never-ending-winter spring, and now we’re doing the hah-hah-the-fall-rains-have-started summer.  Of my one beelion tomatoes, approximately none are ripe.

So, fine, we make the love!

Or… if you can’t get anyone to go for that… we make fried green tomatoes.

You take the green tomatoes from the vines that have collapsed in the wind because of your hokey sisal twine that you used to tie them up (forgetting that a vine full of tomatoes is real heavy).  In this case, we’re using Brandywines.

You dip them into the beaten eggs from your mentally challenged yard fowl.  Then, you dip them in some corn meal, salt, and pepper.

I suppose this goes without saying, but you fry them.  In a pan.  A hot pan.

And VOILA!  They are very fine with a remoulade comme ca!

If you do not lock the door, a pathetic urchin may come in, and in an attempt to charm some food from you with his humor, tell you that your fried tomatoes are:

“EARILY GOOD!”

We chased this one away.

So sad, really.