For the past month, every meal I've had at home has included tomatoes in some form. I'm not exaggerating. This time of year brings out the greedy tomato monster in me, and I just gorge on them until they vanish from the stands of farmers' markets.

I'm not alone in my obsession, and I'm particularly fond of Early Girl tomatoes. This year I resolved to eat these red jewels as long as possible and decided to finally make the time to stockpile them in my pantry. Wintertime won't be as bleak knowing that I have a stash of tomatoes to brighten my dishes on occasion.

This past Saturday morning, I bought a crate of dry-farmed Early Girls from Dirty Girl Produce at the Ferry Building (be sure to ask for the ones for canning, they're cheaper!) and hauled 20 pounds home in my bicycle panniers. I set aside the rest of the afternoon for this enterprise because canning is an all-day affair, especially if you're planning on doing a large batch (and you should, since it's so time-consuming.)

I had already stocked up on Weck jars from Weckjars.com; I confess part of my impetus for canning tomatoes this season was that I have a deep affection for these beautiful German jars. You might have spotted them at Heath Ceramics or Crate and Barrel. (They're available on plenty of other online retailers as well, so search around if you can't find them locally.) They're pricier than Ball and Kerr jars, but the lids are reusable as long as you don't crack them. (Ball and Kerr jars lids are one-time use only.)

Weckjars.com was kind enough to provide me with a home-canning guide that was immensely useful and included recipes for a variety of jams, preserves and pickled food. Here's a run-down of the essentials:

1) You need a large pot that's deep enough to accomodate both a rack that you can rest in the bottom and the jars. The jars will rest on this rack and should be completely submerged in water when processing.

2) You'll also need a jar lifter to remove the jars from hot water with ease.

3) Be sure all of your jars are in pristine condition and have been thoroughly cleaned with hot, soapy water. If you see any mold (from being stored in a damp cellar, for instance), boil them for 10 minutes. Always use new rubber rings, and they should have no cracks or tears. Boil the rubber canning rings for 2-3 minutes and leave them in the hot water until you need them.

4) Prep your tomatoes. Chop them up and can them raw, or blanch them to remove the skins, make a sauce, roast them...the possibilities are endless. I like the skins and don't mind seeds, so I just sliced mine up, then roasted them in the oven with olive oil and salt.

5) Fill your jars up almost to the top (I left approximately 1/8" of room, Weck recommends 1/2" but I thought that was too much); you want to be sure that the lids don't squeeze any liquid out when you press them down. Wipe down the rims, then add the lids with the rubber canning rings. Be sure the rings are evenly seated around the lid and don't poke up anywhere. This is very important as it will insure a tight seal later on. Weck jars use rust-proof metal clamps to secure the lids during processing. Clamp two of them on top on opposite ends of the lid. Be sure to completely press down so that they click firmly in place.

6) If you're packing raw tomatoes, you must submerge the jars in room temperature water and bring it to boil. Once the water's boiling (212 °F), you must process them for 90 minutes. For cooked tomatoes, bring the water to a boil and then gently submerge the jars for 50 minutes. You may notice that the volume of your tomatoes has decreased slightly due to the processing stage, as steam and occasionally liquid may leave the jar (but won't enter in.)

7) Don't stack jars on top of each other; be sure to use another rack if you add a second level of jars. It's ok for the jars to touch one another and the walls of the pot itself. However, don't pack them in too tightly. Leave some room so you can remove them easily.

8) Remove the jars with the lifter and let them cool completely. Then remove the clamps and test the lids. Here's the moment of truth: they should be firmly in place, and the tab of the rubber canning ring should be pointing downward. If the lids have any give, refrigerate this batch and start over. Store your jars in a cool, dry place away from sunlight and periodically test the lids of your jars over the next few days to ensure they've successfully sealed. If you notice that the tabs are level, check the seal -- it may be loose. I'd avoid consuming any tomatoes if you feel the seal has been compromised. You don't want to get sick and not be able to eat the good ones over the next few months.

9) When you're ready to eat your tomatoes, pull on the rubber tab to break the seal. You'll hear a satisfying pop and you can feast away.

If you're feeling a bit on the lazier side, you can always freeze your tomatoes, too.

Good luck and happy hoarding!

.

The other week, when visiting some old friends at their home in Redwood City to dine on sous vide leg of lamb, I was somewhat surprised/amused that the lady of the house had chosen to serve a salad of quinoa as an accompaniment.

"Quinoa, eh?" I said to the man of the house. He shot me a little look that said, "Oh crap, you're not going to bring that up again, are you?"

Well, yes, I am. I'm even writing a little blog post about it.

So there.

When we were in college, this friend of mine and I were out at some sort of social gathering where eating occurred. There was a woman present from his World Arts and Cultures department whom he was trying to impress. I remember her as very attractive in a Berkeley/unwashed/sandal-wearing/patchouli-smelling sort of way. In other words, just up my friend's alley (at the time), so to speak.

He sat next to her on a long bench. He complimented her outfit, saying something to the tune of "I really like your skirt. It's so... Third World." When this failed to win her over, he stepped things up by making a comment about the food on her plate:

"Ahhh, keen-waaaah," he said with deliberate flair. "That's an ancient grain, you know."

Frankly, if any man said this to me, I would have been automatically intrigued. Was he kidding? Was his field of study ancient grains? Was he really that interested in my diet?

Whatever this girl was thinking, she was relatively unmoved by my friend's covert attempts at wooing, which means (in my book) that she couldn't have been very interesting (or smart) to begin with. No matter how many yards of Third World fabric she had on.

And I can't say that I'm sorry, since I'm rather fond of the woman he ended up marrying. I mean, she knows about the quinoa pitch and serves it up as a loving, quiet joke.

Like sous vide lamb and quinoa salad, my friend and his wife are an excellent, interesting pairing.

Quinoa Salad

I've chosen to go, if not Third World, then New World with this one. Quinoa, tomatoes, and corn* (or, as 1/8th of my ancestors call it, maize), just like my friends did.

Quinoa, if you didn't know by now, is an ancient grain-- it's been cultivated in the Andes for at least 5,000 years. Though the locals regarded it as sacred, I think it may be a stretch to call it, as some do, "The gold of the Inkas." I somehow doubt Pizarro would have been satisfied had the captured emperor Atahualpa offered him a roomful of quinoa as his ransom instead of actual gold.

Of course, Pizarro wasn't exactly satisfied with a roomful of real gold either, since he eventually had the poor emperor strangled.

A roomful of quinoa would have been a hell of a lot cheaper, if you ask me.

The addition of corn is an inspired touch, given the fact that the Spanish so scorned quinoa as "food for Indians" and detested its sacredness that they banned the cultivation of the grain, forcing the conquered people to grow corn in its place.

Apart from the added sweetness, corn adds a delicious touch of cultural tension.

Besides, it's fun to play with corn silk. Think: Farrah Fawcett hair.

Serves six.

Ingredients:

For the salad:

1 cup quinoa

2 cups cold water

2 ears of sweet yellow corn (about 2 cups)

A tablespoon of oil to coat the corn

1 cup diced (or simply cut in half) cherry tomatoes

1 cup diced squash (I chose a darling little green type the name of which I have forgotten. It adds a bit of color and is, of course, New World)

As much goat cheese as you like, which is entirely optional, since goats were introduced to the New World by the Spanish.

For the vinaigrette:

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil (Virgins, though it has been argued, were not introduced by the Spaniards, so they're okay to use.)

1/4 cup white wine or champagne vinegar

A pinch of salt

As much freshly ground pepper as you like

Preparation:

1. Rinse quinoa in cold, running water. Drain. It is best to use a mesh strainer for this exercise, otherwise you likely wash most of the grain down the sink.

2. In a medium pot, place quinoa and two cups of cold water. Bring to a boil, then cover pot and lower heat to a simmer. This takes about 15 minutes. Remove cover and fluff quinoa with a fork. Let cool.

3. Rub corn with oil (you can use corn oil, for all it matters, but I used olive oil), put the ears in some sort of roasting vessel like a cast iron pan or what-have-you, and place vessel in a 400°F oven to roast, turning occasionally to brown. This takes about 15 minutes, so you might as well be doing this while your quinoa is cooking. You do read through a recipe before executing it, don't you? Good. I thought so. The corn is finished when the kernels are turgid with juice. Remove corn from oven, let cool enough to handle, then cut from cob. Set aside.

4. When quinoa and corn are cool, add them to a large bowl. To these two culturally conflicting grains add the diced tomato and squash. Toss gently with a large spoon.

5. To make the vinaigrette, place all vinaigrette ingredients into a mason jar, apply the lid tightly and shake it vigorously until the oil and vinegar have emulsified. Pour dressing over the quinoa salad and toss again gently.

6. Transfer your salad to the serving dish of your choosing-- hopefully some sort of Pre-Columbian pottery vessel-- and sprinkle with the purely-optional cheese. Serve with lamb to your only-slightly-annoyed husband.

* You might notice the presence of red onion in this photograph. It was merely an experiment in flavor. It added an unnecessary sharpness to the salad which I have since omitted.

This summer I made a vow to get over to the farmers' market—any farmers' market—once a week. For the most part I've managed to do it. And for the past 3 or 4 months I've purchased a bag of fresh ripe tomatoes each week. Ever since they hit the market, I've been obsessed. And now I'm in a downright panic, as they are on their way out.

This week, I had a pile of gorgeous Ella Bella tomatoes—my favorite tomato vendor at the SF farmers' market who just pulled up stakes and moved to Hawaii, wah!—which were threatening to go bad (it's been a busy week!). So, as my one last hurrah, and in celebration of the amazingly sweet, delicious tomatoes I had on hand, I came up with this super fresh, super fast, and super easy gazpacho. It's a delicious way to bid tomatoes farewell for another year.

There are tons of versions of gazpacho, a soup that, at its best, lets the flavor of sweet, seasonal tomatoes shine. It is by far one of my favorite soups of all time, simple perfection on a hot summer day (well, at least for us in the Bay Area where it still seems to be summer). This Andalucian-style version is inspired by a recipe from Wild Honey restaurant in London.

Last Hurrah Gazpacho

Serves: 4

Ingredients:
About 5–6 large ripe heirloom tomatoes
1/2 jar roasted piquillo peppers (about 5 peppers or 5 ounces)
1/2 English cucumber, peeled and seeded
1 small garlic clove
2 teaspoons Worcestershire
2 teaspoons rice vinegar
2 teaspoons white balsamic vinegar
1/4 cup good-quality extra-virgin olive oil
Kosher salt
Freshly ground pepper
Hot sauce, such as Melinda's habañero sauce

For garnishing:
Cucumber, peeled, seeded and diced
Avocado, peeled, seeded and diced
Olive oil, for drizzling
Croutons or sliced, toasted sourdough baguette

Preparation:
1. Have ready a medium-mesh sieve set over a large bowl. Halve the tomatoes crosswise and squeeze the seeds into the sieve. Cut out the stem, chop the tomatoes and put in a blender. Add the juice from the bowl and discard the seeds.

2. Add the peppers, cucumber, garlic, Worcestershire, vinegars, and oil, and process until smooth. Season to taste with salt, pepper, and hot sauce. Pour the soup through the sieve set over the bowl. Transfer to an airtight container and chill for at least an hour, and up to a day.

3. Garnish with cucumber, avocado, and a drizzle of olive oil. Serve with the croutons scattered over the top or toasted baguette.

I grew up in the 1970s in Dallas, Texas, at a time when processed food was the hot new thing (think Funyuns, Cap'n Crunch and Velveeta, and the list goes on...). So you can imagine what I must have been surrounded by foodwise.

Fortunately, my mom was a foodie at heart—she baked loaves of bread, cultured her own tangy yogurt, and not only grew a good-sized vegetable garden, but maintained a healthy compost pile. She was no doubt considered "weird" for the time and the place, and I for one have never stopped appreciating her weirdness.

My mom's garden was really sweet, and gave me a whole new appreciation of fresh vegetables as a kid. I remember once she grew a cucumber that was nearly as tall as my younger brother. We were in awe. I also remember stealing plenty of tomatoes, fresh off the vine and warm from the sun. And I still think that there is probably no better thing in the world that you can eat than a freshly-plucked tomato at the peak of ripeness.

Up until now, I haven't really been in a place where I could easily grow my own vegetables. So, a few weeks ago, on a whim, I decided to buy a few half wine barrels and start my own urban garden. I managed to find 4 barrels for only $20 each with free delivery on craigslist . What a steal! Finding the soil and then lugging it up our steep flight of stairs to the front of our house wasn't quite as easy, but somehow we managed.

I have to admit I went a little overboard and bought 9, yes NINE, tomato plants and planted 3 in each barrel (I'm saving one barrel because my mom is bringing me cranberry beans to plant this weekend). If they actually work out, I'll be swimming in tomatoes, but that's ok. I love them. Especially plucked right off the vine.

How to Make An Urban Tomato Garden

Ingredients
1 half wine barrel (make sure it has a few holes drilled into the bottom)
A warm, very sunny spot
3 bricks
About 6 large handfuls of large pebbles or rocks or broken terra cotta pots
2.5 cubic feet of good-quality, preferably organic, soil
.5 cubic feet of compost
1/4 to 1/3 cup organic vegetable plant food
2 or 3 tomato plants (I chose brandywine, early girl, beefsteak, roma, and sweet 100s)
A tomato cage
A hose for watering
Gardening gloves

Preparation
1. Put the wine barrel in your sunny spot. Perch the wine barrel atop your 3 bricks so it's stable and not wobbly.

2. Get all your ingredients gathered round and put on your gardening gloves.

3. Cover the bottom of the wine barrel evenly with the pebbles.

4. Add enough soil to fill the barrel about 2/3 full. Water the soil and mix it around with your hands.

5. Add the compost and more soil, and mix them all together with your hands to make a nice, rich base for your tomatoes.

6. Water the soil again, and mix together.

7. Sprinkle the plant food over the soil and mix it in.

8. Place the tomatoes on the soil in the spot you want to plant them. Try to position them so they are evenly spaced from one another, not too close to the outer edge or the center.

9. Dig a little hole for each tomato under the spot you placed them. Remove the tomato plant from it's container (gently!) and (gently!) loosen it's roots.

10. Place the tomato plant lovingly into its hole and pat the soil around it so it feels all snug and tucked in. Water the plants again.

10. Position the tomato cage so the tomato plants can grow up and around it. You might have to tie them as they start. Make sure to water them, not too much and not too little. And give them lots of love and care, and hopefully you will get loads of flavorful, succulent, juicy tomatoes.

There's more to urban hunting and gathering than visiting one's local supermarket. Grocery shopping need not be limited to the likes of Safeway, Whole Foods, and Trader Joe's. They're just so... corporate, and this shopper is a bit bored with the over-marketing of, well, markets. Small, individually-owned stores might not provide their customers with all their shopping needs, but they do offer something that the Big Boys cannot -- individuality.

One such store exists in my Polk Street neighborhood -- You Say Tomato. It's British-owned and operated, by one David Kidd, originally from Stoke-on-Trent. If you're unfamiliar with the name of that town, think again. Yes, the china with the Christmas trees on it -- Spode. Very good. I'm proud of you for remembering. I hope dredging up those holiday memories wasn't too painful for you.

Currently, a flexible-jointed punked-out doll greets passers-by from the front window with a gesture that is considered rather obscene in Britain, which might indicate that this is no typical tea-and-crumpets venue. No, it isn't typical, but, well, there are the crumpets in the cold case to the left, and the tea sits proudly on the shelves near the back. Sensible Anarchists agree that one cannot undermine authority on an empty stomach.

I think it can be agreed that most Americans do, in fact, say "tomato" with the rough pronunciation of toh-may-toh when referencing Solanum lycopersicum. Though I am indeed one of them, I often find my inner voice pronouncing it toh-mah-toh like an Englishman, because I'm just that way and I have a rich, satisfying inner life.

There is evidence, however, that the English do not pronounce "potato" poh-tah-toh:

Mmm...prawn cocktail.

Though I am an Anglophile and have been since childhood-- memorizing the Monty Python jokes I didn't fully understand, and aping the signature hiss of Terry-Thomas , one need not necessarily be like me to enjoy this shop. Two minutes of browsing will make clear the refreshing British distaste for focus groups and gender-sensitive marketing:

(The above Yorkie Bar from Nestlé provoked a train of conversation with David Kidd that led him to pull up their UK adverts on YouTube. Much time was happily wasted by me upon my return home.)

Besides, browsing here is fun, largely because everything just sounds dirty, but isn't: Crumpets, Country Ploughman's Pickle, Ginger Nuts, Chicken & Mushroom Pasties, and my favorite:

How I love the British.

Beyond fun packaging, You Say Tomato is an excellent source for things like Devonshire cream, kippers, tea, jam, sweets, and just about any British foodstuff one could wish for. Don't smirk. There's something here for everyone:

Give a metaphorical "V" sign to the big chain stores once in a while and stop by for a visit-- it's definitely worth it. It's a great resource for stocking one's larder with tasty conversation pieces.

Now, for those of you who don't understand the store's name, shame on you. It's an homage to one of George Gershwin's most playful tunes, "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off". To be accurate, there is only mention of liking tomatoes, not saying the word, though that is, of course, implied.

I'll let Fred and Ginger explain it to you. And on roller skates, too. If I have to explain who Fred and Ginger are, I might just have to kill myself.

You Say Tomato is located at:

1526 California Street (Between Polk and Larkin)
Tel/Fax: 415 921 2828
yousaytomato@sbcglobal.net

Hours of Operation
Monday: Closed
Tuesday - Friday: 10:00 am -7:00 pm
Saturday & Sunday: 10:00 am -5:00 pm