tomato jones

On my endless quest for heirloom tomatoes (which apparently runs in the family, see my daughter's tomatoes as crack entry), I headed for Phoenix Rising horse farm. It's just a klick from Woonsocket, RI, but definitely another world. Dan showed me the special beans from France he grows for one chef's cassoulet, the zucchini for squash blossoms, the fantastic lime basil and, of course, the tomatoes. They grow mostly for restaurants, so much of the produce is exotica for this area. The plants were triple the usual size, mostly because of horse manure. They have a lot.
    "It must take many workers to keep this garden," I said.
    "We have a lot, and they all live here," said Dan.
    "What is this, some kind of hippie commune?"
    "More like child labor," said Dan. "If you can believe it, I have one high school student who loves picking tomatoes."
     Doing my due diligence, I found the place on line, and discovered that it's a major horse boarding/training/showing scene, with lots of people living and working on site as they all do various horsey things. (Dianne? Maybe you have some gaited horses at Crow's Nest they'd be interested in?)
     Me, I only  care about vegetables. And now I'm on the mailing list!

PS Two dollars a pound. Eat your heart out, New Yorkers! About six bucks here!

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