Today has been a day of tomatoes. We had enough for me to juice about six quarts. I always get annoyed toward the end of canning season when the bushels of fruits and veggies seem endless and my hand cramps to the paring knife, but here at the beginning of the season I find that a bit of kitchen work makes for a nice change.
I've always enjoyed the tomatoes. They look so gross in the big kettle, all red and pulpy. Just as they're about to boil the surface of the stew seems almost to breathe before erupting into hissing, blorping bubbles. It makes me feel wonderfully witchy. When I was thirteen or fourteen I'd mumble `double, double, toil and trouble,' in my best creaky voice. Now I usually just think Macbethian thoughts.