Dry-farmed tomatoes

On the very last day of the San Carlos farmers' market (Hot Harvest nights are a sadly limited season), I found the one item that will haunt me over the winter. My favorite organic farm stand (which has the loveliest strawberries in late spring and early summer, and gorgeous sunflowers for months) discreetly displayed a small table of brilliantly red tomatoes (next to the assortment of typically mottled-looking heirlooms). Labelled "dry-farmed Early Girls," they made me pause and think twice. Picking one up, it felt dense and a little tough-skinned, compared to the delicate heirloom tomatoes.

Handing my selection of modest-sized reds to the vendor, I asked about the dry-farming aspect. She said the fruit is super-flavorful, because no extra water suffuses the flesh in the way we are accustomed to seeing in irrigated varieties. Which is why, she added, "They have a cult following."

In a land of foodies and culinary fashion trends, the popularity of one varietal does not impress me much. But one bite converted me to a follower. As Basha described the experience, "This is the tomato of my childhood." They have the intense, sweet tomato-ness of her uncle's kitchen garden at his farm near Joliet, Illinois (before the new Federal highway system bisected the property). Not satisfied to wait til next summer, we are searching for them at several year-round markets nearby. A worthy quest.

Grapes of Autumn

Who needs grapes from Chile?
As a side benefit of the popularity of American regional wines, more varieties of table grapes are being grown in many parts of the country.

California is particularly blessed; but surprisingly diverse climates are yielding a pleasing array of snackable grapes. Many hues and flavors appear in local farmers markets, beyond the generic red and green seedless standards carried by grocery stores. What types grow where you live?

Petit Aubergine

The Belmont (CA) farmers' market is not as large as many in the Bay Area; but it has its loyal followers and some delightful finds for them.

One of my favorite things about farmers' markets is the discovery of new varieties of produce, from ingredients I never knew existed to unusual types of common ingredients (such as Armenian striped cucumbers). In the supermarket, one is lucky to find eggplant at all, and then usually only the giant dark purple (aubergine) variety. If the store considers itself gourmet, a few of the long, slender Japanese variety may be offered. But never, ever, have I seen the reddish, petit type we found in Belmont. Not quite too cute to eat (what is?), they inspire me to think in new ways about how to prepare eggplant, beyond the usual stir-fry, baked parmesan, and roasting for baba janoush options. From diversity comes inspiration.