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Tomato nostalgia as I relive my Croatian island childhood

On the search for my ch

We are coming home wet from the beach, hungry like wolves, bruised knees, feet smeared with red dirt, ears blocked by water. They had brown and black and green bits on the surface that wouldn’t meet today’s supermarket standards where each tomato is identical and perfectly round, in other words, they were beautiful, and they had taste that has tied itself forever in this perfect memory. Almost giving up my quest, I meet a girl I know who is very much into food (and in the meantime avoid all acquaintances who are not) and ask her “ where do you get your tomatoes?

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