It’s finally tomato season. This year, I’m growing a variety called Cherokee Purple, which become a deep rose color when ripe. They are glorious. Juicy and delicious. (They have also been resistant to pests and rot, unlike the Better Boys I grew for the past two summers.)
I’m eating a lot of tomato and cheese sandwiches. It’s one of my favorite ways to eat fresh tomatoes.
I usually only have the standard sandwich loaf for bread, but I think a sandwich like this probably needs some really good quality bread to be phenomenal. I love to use Cheddar cheese. And a grainy mustard preferably, though Dijon works in a pinch. And that’s it. Just layer a couple thick tomato slices and your cheese between slices of bread (one slice spread with mustard) and consume. Easy and delicious.
Every time I eat one of these sandwiches, I think of a camping trip I took in August 2006 with friends in England. We were staying at a campground in North Yorkshire, near Robin Hood’s Bay, Whitby, etc. We had an RV and a tent set up on our site. I was staying in the tent. The RV belonged to the parents of a friend of my friends’, who was also with us. In fact, her parents were staying in it up until the day we arrived.
I remember it well. We showed up at the campsite, and immediately, her mum put on a kettle for tea. She made us sandwiches. She made me a cheese and tomato sandwich, and she kept calling me “Petal.”
Every time I eat a tomato and cheese sandwich, I can almost envision sitting in that little camper, drinking that cup of hot tea, and enjoying the mothering from this total stranger who called me “Petal” as she made me a sandwich.