Reflections on A (Sometimes Absurd) Life – It’s Hot; Eat a Tomato
By Mary Tanck
PHMOmag Columnist
I was technically asked to be the humor columnist for PHMO Magazine; but it is far too hot for non-sense and, frankly, none of you are doing anything particularly funny.
You know what it’s not too hot for? Tomato sandwiches.
Everyone – especially Southerners – has an opinion on making the perfect tomato sandwich. Everyone has an opinion on everything these days. Some people use white bread, butter, and a tomato slice. Those people are wrong and I judge them harshly. My grandma was in the white bread, Hellman’s, salt, and tomato camp. I like to keep it pure: a slice of fresh sourdough with a thick salted slice of tomato on top. Wait a few minutes while the salt works its magic and the tomato juices seep down to fill all the crevices of that bread.
You should always show a tomato sandwich the respect it deserves; it must be served on a real plate with a glass of cold sweet tea. In a pinch, a cold Coca-Cola, in a glass, is also acceptable. Under no circumstances should one serve a summer cocktail or, heaven forbid, Pepsi with a tomato sandwich. In fact, if someone ever brings me a Pepsi with my tomato sandwich, I will immediately call the police.
I said what I said. If you disagree, feel free to hash it out amongst yourselves on our friendly local Facebook discussion page. You know the one.
Side note: Can you imagine how that call would go?
911 Dispatcher: 911, what’s your emergency?
Me: Someone brought me Pepsi with my tomato sandwich.
911 Dispatcher: [immediately radios the chief] Chief! End the stand-off, we have a real emergency!
Chief: Fellas, we gotta go! Let this guy stay barricaded in his house if he wants to! We have real crime to solve!
To make a short story long, that would be a nightmare for everyone. Don’t do it.
And, now, back to my titillating reflections on tomato sandwiches …
A few years ago, I was reading a Rick Bragg column in which he talked about tomato sandwiches. He likes Wonderbread, Duke’s, and tomato with salt and pepper, if I recall. Anyway, I was reading his column and craving a tomato sandwich with one of those cravings that come from deep within your hippocampus, the kind that won’t go away without either consumption of the sandwich or extensive therapy; the problem was that it was also March. I kept telling myself, “Self, you know you absolutely cannot eat a tomato sandwich in March. It is a crime against nature. It’s just not right.”
Sadly for me, the part of myself that wanted that tomato sandwich was weak and only able to hold out for 29.6 hours. I bought a grocery store tomato. Let me tell you, a tomato sandwich in July is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy. A tomato sandwich in March reminds us to stay humble about it. This is not a joke. The sandwich was dreadful; all these years later, I still have nightmares about it.
If you’ve never had a tomato sandwich, go make one. Choose joy, my friends, choose joy. Choose a recipe listed above – except butter, don’t choose butter. If you don’t grow tomatoes at home, head out to our Pleasant Hill Farmer’s Market and one of our local vendors will gladly hook you up.
And if you ever, and I do mean ever, eat a tomato sandwich in March served with Pepsi, don’t tell me. It’s too hot to recover from the horror of it.