the bounty of tomatoes
We bought our house in Ohio in August of 2006. It had a big back yard that opened to a natural pond. I immediately found a spot for a garden. Husband worked away the daylight hours, but Father arrived in October and after a short deliberation and exchange of ideas he set out to turn the dirt on a hundred square feet in the corner of the yard abutting the two neighbors. He spent hours pulling the deep-rooted flowering plants from the ground, fighting the clay, sweating, and getting blisters from the shovel handle. I had to drag him inside to rest, reminding him that he was a retired Ob Gyn, and not a farmer. After several days of digging I had my plot.
I made a schematic, placing tomato plants along the two wooden fences with basil growing between them. The peppers were going to be in the middle, and the outer perimeter would house the eggplants, beets, and zucchini so they could spread their greenery beyond the edges of the garden. In the spring I started a lot of my plants from the seeds I brought from Serbia and some from Ohio. They flourished. I followed the last frost date and replanted them in the soil as soon as possible. I added another little spot next to the steps leading to the deck to plant Swiss chard, chives, and lavender.
I am no botanist. Everything I learned came from the Internet. I fought tomato blight, zucchini weevil borers, rabbits, and geese feeding their offspring with my young seedlings. Husband and I collected hay from empty houses in the neighborhood and I laid it around the plants to prevent weeds from growing and keep in the moisture. Sammy, the high-school kid from next door promised to make me a compost bin for an occasional plate of chocolate chip cookies.
Every morning after I sent the kids off to school and Husband off to work, I would make a cup of Turkish coffee, sit on the deck, and look at the garden and the pond in front of me. I would stroll down the slight slope with scissors and a bowl, and walk around the tomato plants, touching their leaves, gently shaking the flowers, and inspecting the fruit. I noticed the difference in the hues, as they ripened from light to dark green, and then moved to the stripes of pink, to emerge in their full glory of royal red. It was amazing to watch life just blossoming in front of my eyes.
my garden
I grew up eating heirloom tomatoes at the peak of their ripeness and I am a bit of a tomato snob. I do not partake of Husband’s big-tomato-for-the-burger buys in January. I prefer to suffer in a tomato void than to consume a poser red orb trying to usurp the name. But the tomatoes I grew were real. The skin was soft and there was no tough white center running through them. They were not perfect, but misshapen and gnarly.
Most of them we ate raw, sometimes right off the vine with a few sprinkles of sea salt, sometimes in salads with chopped onions, peppers, cucumbers, salt, pepper, and olive oil. I made salsa and tomato sauce. I even dried some in the sun. But when the call from the distance came, sneaking in from the East, carried by the smell of tomato leaves on my hands, I would have to make Sataraš (suh-tuh-rush). Nothing else would satisfy the longing for the days long gone and the comfort of Mother’s kitchen in August.
Softly sauteed onions are mixed with chopped peppers, softened and tamed into translucency. The tomatoes are added, stirred and left to simmer until the whole kitchen is filled with the essence of summer. Some salt and pepper join in, and in the end a slightly beaten egg, just to connect it all. We ate it room temperature or even cold, with a slice of white Serbian cheese and some fresh bread.
*”paradajz”, pronounced puh-ruh-daiz, is a Serbian word for tomato
SATARAŠ (ONIONS, PEPPERS, AND TOMATO SAUTEE)
Ingredients:
- 1 tbsp sunflower oil
- 1 large onion, chopped
- 1 big red pepper, chopped (in Serbia we use long, yellow-green triangular peppers, which are not bitter like the green bell pepper)
- 1 tsp salt
- ½ tsp fresh ground pepper
- 6-7 ripe tomatoes*, peeled and cubed
- 1 sligtly beaten egg (if you are following Eastern Orthodox Great Lent, fast, or vegan diet, skip the egg)
Directions:
Heat the sautee pan on medioum heat. Add the oil, and when hot mix in the onion. Cook until translucent, about 7-8 minutes. Add peppers and continue cooking until soft. Season with salt and pepper and add the tomatoes. Simmer for 20-30 minutes until flavors combine. Take off the heat and stir in the egg. Adjust the seasonings. Serve immediatelly, or at room temperature, with freshly baked bread and some white farmers’ cheese (or as a side dish with pork, chicken, or beef).
I am linking this post to Summerfest and Margaret Roach’s wonderful site Away to Garden.
You are speaking my language!
Oh, your photos are beyond beautiful! I am smitten…
Really enjoyed the story, I could see your garden in my head. Yes we are neighbors I’m a little north of you in Yorba Linda. I am from Illinois so the big yard and pond sound familiar. I just love simple clean flavors like this recipe. Egg? never even considered adding an egg to bind. ~Chef Louise
Louise, I am still adjusting to California – too many years in the Midwest. But I am loving it here! I just miss my garden, that’s all:(
The addition of the egg subdues the colors somewhat, gives it an orangish hue, but binds the sautee.
What a treasure your garden must be. I love your saute and plan to give it a try. I hope you are having a great day. Blessings…Mary
Mary, thank you! I have several of your recipes marked to try, and I don’t know how many I have already made! You always inspire me.
Lana, naletela sam na Vaš blog pre nekog vremena i nekako nikako da ga nađem, dok se nisam setila asocijacije na biber. Tako mi je drago što čuvate Srpsku tradiciju u dalekom svetu!
Hvala, Jelena! I iako pretpostaqvljam da si mladja, nemoj da mi persiras (mada sam ja vaspitana tako da svakome persiram, ako ga ne poznajem, ili ako je starijii, pa makar i rodbinu – austro-ugarska skola:) U ovakvim forumima i na blogovima mislim da je persiranje nepotrebno, jer smo svi tu, zajedno, negde u etru. Pozdrav iz Kalifornije!
obozavam sataras, ali ga ne pravim posto ovdje sa paradajizima mozes igrati tenis. Organic su malo preskupi za tu kolicinu koja meni treba, vrt nemam, balkon ne dolazi u obzir zbog golubova, a ni paprike nisu bas povoljne…sve u svemu zavidim ti!:)
Melrose, i ja moram da se cimam za paprike i paradajz, prekupi su, ali moram za dusu:) Gajim jednu biljku koktel-paradajza na tremu ispred stana i to je to. Ponekad odem do farme i kupim paradajz ciji me ukus podseca na ukus paradajza iz detinjstva. Eh, da mi je basta…