So, the title of today's piece is also the official name of the production company my writing partner and I started over three decades okay. It stemmed from the many NY-based lunches we had at the time when we were trying to star a writing career. When we were ordering, both of us had a stipulation for the waiter. If we were getting a salad, there would be a single exception.
No tomatoes please.
The phrase stuck. And still adheres to this day. Just check us on Imdb.
Now, here's the goofy stuff. I will eat tomato sauce and any cooked tomatoes. I will drink tomato juice. I will eat salsa or bruschetta. My favorite sandwich is bacon, lettuce, and...yes...tomato. I just won't eat a tomato cut into slices or a wedge.
Does this make sense? Of course not. But it is me.
But, every August going back to my days in NY and up to my current days in LA, I make an exception to the rule. I will venture out to a Farmer's market and over-indulge myself in tomatoes of all kinds and shapes. Nothing makes me happier than a bowl of cut up tomatoes with nothing but some salt, a little EVO, and some balsamic vinegar.
It is currently August. Look at the load of tomatoes I have for this week.
So much for production company names.
Dinner last night: Leftover ribeye in a salad. With tomatoes.
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