Not long ago a morning chill in the air would bring with it a sense of dread. The cooler mornings a sign that winter is on its way. That snow will be here before I know it. And with it a promise of cold weather to stay until May of next year (or even longer!) The nippy mornings of fall hint that the beautiful weather of summer is gone. The dark, cold days of winter coming to take their place.
But something changed over the last year or so. Somehow my body has acclimated to the weather in New England. Instead of bringing dread, the cool wind on my face blows a longing to my heart. I find myself yearning for the quiet and coziness that Winter brings.
I walk around the house each morning, opening the windows to let the morning air in. Today I noticed our sunroom windowsills are covered with green tomatoes. David harvested the remaining fruits this weekend. Most of them unripe. Seeing them, you’d never guess that we didn’t plant a single tomato plant this year. After three summers of fighting with plants to grow and produce fruits, I gave up. This year I decided to let the farmers grow my food. Instead of planting seeds, I bought the biggest farm share I could find. Yet here we are, with the best tomato harvest we’ve had since we moved here four years ago.
I gather the ripe cherry tomatoes and rinse them in the sink. Water droplets bead up on their red and yellow skins, like sweat on my forehead after a long run. I slice them in half and my thoughts turn to the tomatoes last year that were left on the counter until it was too late.
We compost all of our scraps, our attempt to return to the earth that which we won’t use. It turns out if you throw all your rotten tomatoes in your compost, then put that same compost all over your yard the next Spring, you end up with volunteer tomato plants everywhere. Like weeds. They grow out of every crack they can find. And because you worked so hard the last few years trying to grow tomatoes, you won’t have the heart to pull them out the way you pull out weeds. “Just let them grow,” you’ll say; “Maybe we’ll get a few tomatoes without trying this year.”
The months will go by and your weedy tomato plants will grow into the most beautiful tomato plants you’ve ever seen. They’ll grow so tall they’ll take over your towering asparagus plant. Baby tomatoes will hang off of them like concord grapes on a fully mature vine. At the end of the season, you’ll have more green tomatoes than you know what to do with.
I arrange the tomatoes on a sheet pan and drizzle olive oil over the top. Grab a pinch of salt from the jar just to my right and sprinkle it over the cut tomatoes. It sparkles back at me like fairy dust. These tomatoes will be slowly roasted into something that tastes like savory candy. Slow roasted cherry tomatoes are one of my favorite Winter treats.
I laugh to myself as I put the sheet pan the oven, where it will stay for half the day. This feels like the ultimate gift from our yard this year. I intentionally didn’t grow a garden and yet here I am. In October. Harvesting green tomatoes from a volunteer plant. Letting them ripen on the windowsill. Slow roasting them for the Winter days ahead. Refusing to let even the weeds go to waste.