Tag Archives: puerto rico

A true tomato

I spent the entire week in Puerto Rico poo-pooing their very sad looking tomatoes.  They were barely-pinkish, transparent, rubbery-looking things that resembled something that some one may have tried to grow at some point or the other, but which had been aborted too soon and now were in a state of perpetual laboratory-like strangeness.

dsc06954 this may have been one of the better ones at the resort, truly…

So, seriously: we eat at these great restaurants.  Everything is beautiful, but every time – terrible, terrible tomatoes.  What on earth?

So, a long day on Palomino Island was my final day.  I dragged the beach lounger knee-deep into the ocean and let the waves splash over me all day while a hot breeze cooled my skin.  I got burned.  A deep burn, but it was OK because I had been careful not to burn before, so the base tan protected me (I hope Ali, who has agreed to help me un-do previous sun damage on my skin, is not reading this – because we just talked about it the night before I went!). 

Tredessa looked at me and said, “Mom, you are burned.  You are as red as a tomato.”

And then, the reason I am so proud of her, the reason I admire her intelligence so, she made the distinction, “But not like a Puerto Rican tomato.  Like one of your tomatoes.”  And I beamed.  Tomato red.

Now this is a tomato.

tomatoes-123

From my garden.  A small tomato and some basil.  If it is slightly blurry, forgive the photographer (me).  I think it is because I may have been shaking a little bit in anticipation of sprinkling some salt on these slices and eating them.  Because, omygoodness, they are sweet and tangy, and the juice, which tries unsuccessfully to escape my tongue and run down my face, is madly divine, the fountain of life, more potent than wine.

I have written about tomatoes before – oh, yes, I have!

I would like to dedicate this blog to Bryan.  Read here and here and here – for old times’ sake, Bry.  And oh, what the heck?  Here is my roasted tomato recipe for Cody, but Bryan, you can enjoy it again, too – right before you re-read this blog about YOU, where I seriously question whether God wants us to be friends if you hate tomatoes!   ;)

El Coqui

The song.

We arrived in Puerto Rico late on a Monday night to the most intoxicating chirping and tropical song.  Luke and I both thought they were surely piping in the sound of large birds,  for the trees around the entire resort were alive with sound – loud sound.

El Coqui.

Luke and I were wrong.  The sound, we were told, were the male tree frogs calling out, wooing the females, from sun-down to sun-up.  The Coqui (which means “little frog”) got its’ name from the sound it makes: ko-kee’, a sort-of whistle or chirp.  There must have been thousands of them there.  They lullaby’ed me all night long.

coquigoogle image

I miss their song already.