My neighbor reached over the fence and handed me a cucumber and a tomato he grew. The cucumber I took bites from til it was gone but the tomato I had a plan for. A sourdough, home made cashew cheese, salt, pepper and basil leaf plan.
A couple times a week, throughout the summer Jason and Kate would make sandwiches for lunch. Fifty some odd BLT’s or grilled cheese and one, tomato sandwich for me. I loved every single one. Jason would look at me with his soft, drowsy eyes and question if, I really wanted a tomato sandwich? My response was always an emphatic “Yes!”
A few times they mixed it up adding hummus, or thin grilled eggplant, or avocado but my favorite ones were simply, chewy white bread, vegenaise and tomato as red as Snow White’s lips. Dipped in Kate’s red lentil lemon soup. The slumped cook shack porch, plate balanced on my lap. Jason & Tom – the Clydesdales – swatting flies with their tails. A half hour lunch with comrades, horses and dogs.
The show closed and as we were packing it all up, I was craving something salty, watery, crunchy and kind of greasy. I walked in to the cook shack and saw Kate behind several loaves of bread. Not to step on her meal planning, I tentatively asked “Are… you making…” She cut me off, smiling, “I thought you’d want a tomato sandwich.” Meals made for you when you’re working is a luxury but made by friends, even a humble tomato sandwich, is the best damn sandwich you’ll ever eat.