Summertime for a gardener is synonymous is amazing
Mediterranean crops – basil, eggplants, capsicums, and above all, tomatoes.
Once you've tasted home-grown tomatoes, you’ll never want to buy a commercial
tomato again – I know I haven’t bought a single one in three years.
So late last Winter, I promised myself I’d grow eight tomato
plants, max. I sowed the following seeds:
- A 2014 self-seeder - Roma or perhaps San Marzano – a great sauce tomato anyway, with tiny unobtrusive seeds.
- Violet Jasper, a stunning dark maroon tomato with green stripes – not the best for flavour but a very early and enthusiastic cropper – from seed saved from a friend’s 2014 crop.
- Jaune Flammee, a spectacularly zesty flavoured tomato that’s great raw, in soup or sauces – from my own saved seed.
- Opa’s Brandywine – mega, meaty tomatoes, the seed given to me by Sue Parsons, garden columnist for the Canberra Times. My largest Brandywine weighed in at a whopping 445 grams, although the fables tell of a 673gm tomato grown by a Canberran last year.
- Gold Fleck – seed saved from a Big Red tomato plant grown in 2014 that produced amazing gold-flecked tomatoes. Big, fruity tomatoes with metallic-gold shooting stars across the skin.
The gorgeous Violet Jasper. |
Forty-six tomatoes seedlings grew, and suddenly colleagues,
friends, and neighbours found themselves being strongly encouraged to adopt a
plant or three for the summer. I planted ten plants into my community garden
plot.
But still more tomatoes came my way, including the
imaginatively named Mortgage Lifter from another local gardening guru met through
the Canberra Organic Growers Society. Two more tomato
plants appeared of their own accord in the plot, producing cherry tomatoes and sweet
round tomatoes the size of golf balls.
Suddenly, I had 13 tomato plants – more than last summer!
But the milder summer produced a far more reasonable crop, around 70 kgs. Many kilos were eaten or
given away, and many more were bottled as passata or an amazing roasted pasta
sauce (recipe in my next post!).
But it wasn’t over yet. In mid-summer, I was absolutely
privileged to be gifted with seeds from a Bullheart tomato plant that grew from
a 70-year-old seed, the single successful germinator from an envelope of seeds found in an box
of black and white photos; a true heirloom. I raised 11 seedlings, gifting nine
to other gardeners who would appreciate the significance of the plants. I
planted the remaining two in my backyard where they’d be less likely to
cross-pollinate with other tomato varieties.
When they finally fruited, the 1944 tomatoes were stunning – around 500 grams each, heart shaped, and almost all flesh with few seeds. They were quite literally a rich, dense, filling meal in themselves. They were the last seedlings to be planted by several weeks, and are now the only plants still producing fruit. I haven’t yet cooked any as I’m too busy enjoying them raw, sometimes with a dollop of home-made pesto.
When they finally fruited, the 1944 tomatoes were stunning – around 500 grams each, heart shaped, and almost all flesh with few seeds. They were quite literally a rich, dense, filling meal in themselves. They were the last seedlings to be planted by several weeks, and are now the only plants still producing fruit. I haven’t yet cooked any as I’m too busy enjoying them raw, sometimes with a dollop of home-made pesto.
A mid-summer harvest - who needs the supermarket! |
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