Ugly is Only Skin Deep

My friend Nina and I share a garden. Yesterday we were both out in the sunshine harvesting some vegetables. "Oh no," Nina cried as she held out her hand with two tomatoes in it. I knew what she was thinking. They were the ugliest tomatoes you have ever seen. They were a brownish, greenish color. They were bumpy and lumpy and speckled. Gnarly looking little monsters. We aren't use to seeing our tomatoes that way. In this country we grow our tomatoes for show. They are unnaturally smooth and firm and plump, like many of the women here in LA. It makes them hardy travelers, which is good since they are often shipped thousands of miles out of season - the tomatoes, I mean. I'm not sure about the women. By focusing on external beauty alone we end up with nice, round, shiny, firm tomatoes that have no soul. Bite into one of these conventional types and you might as well be eating cardboard.

I told Nina not to worry. We are growing Heirloom tomatoes. Heirlooms are open-pollinated plants who's seeds have been handed down for generations. They are not grown for looks and long distance travel like the hybrid varieties we see in the store. Those tomatoes are manipulated by companies who's main concern is profit, not taste or nutrition. I told her to try it and see how it was. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe these would taste as putrid as they looked, but I was hopeful. 

Moments later Nina came out from her house with an ear to ear smile. Knife in hand, juice dripping down her wrist she thrust a slice of tomato at me. I tucked the ugly little darling into my mouth. Flavor burst from every pore of this fruit. I squeezed my eyes shut to savour the moment. It was ecstasy. The taste was sweet, juicy perfection. All the caring of farmers and gardeners from generations past was cultivated into that flavor. I honored all of them in my moment of tomato pleasure. I looked up the word Heirloom shortly after that. It means a valuable object that has belonged to a family for several generations. These tomatoes are valuable indeed!

Nina's husband, Ron White, is a writer for the LA Times. A few weeks ago he wrote a story on a gardener named Jimmy. This gardener's great grandparents were brought to America as slaves because they were excellent farmers. His great-grandmother "smuggled" a handful of her favorite tomato seeds in a skirt pocket and brought them with her. Today Jimmy sells tomato plants passed down from those seeds. Maybe that's why heirlooms taste so rich -  so much history and care and love is packed into each little fruit.

Eating these gorgeous tasting tomatoes has got me thinking about life and stories and generations. Nobody can tell your story just by looking at you. Nobody knows how rich and full and tasty and sweet your inner world is but you. And that's what we want you to share in Bcelebrated. We hope you'll share your story, all the juicy, sweet and difficult stuff that makes life real. And like and heirloom seed, generations can pass it down for years and savour it, just like I'm doing with my tomatoes.

Sign up for a FREE TRIAL at Bcelebrated now and start sharing the heirloom that is your life.