Twenty Pounds of Green Tomatoes Later. . .

All of the sudden, my garden had turned into this massive clump of overgrown tomato plants invaded with green balls of unripened fruit. The very same plants I'd started from tiny seed back in February. Here it was October and the plants still looked amazing (although I've lamented our tomato-less season on more than one occasion). I'd not canned a single jar of salsa. And, I refused to buy tomatoes to do so. If I couldn't grow my own, then forget it. I guess we'll just go through winter without salsa.

On and off this weekend, I'd hear rumblings that went something like this: There's green tomatoes out there . . . you can eat those, you know . . . my grandmother would can them . . . she hated waste. Mr.Waste Not, Want Not thought it prudent to "harvest" said fruit and promptly headed out to the I-give-up part of the yard and became obsessed about the last vestiges of what I deemed a fairly useless remainder of the summer bounty. Well. Guess who's going to be canning this week. 

Meantime, I had more important things to do this weekend, like caulking up every single wind tunnel gap in our home in preparation for winter. I was like a caulking gun junkie. I had a mission and my mission was to hermetically seal our home. (Perhaps the sticker shock from our recent electric bill from summer had something to do with my episode.) After the third trip to Home Depot this weekend, I'd pretty much decided I had a "problem" and asked Dr. Thyme to dispose of any remnants of the caulking tubes or caulking guns for fear I'd render our home uninhabitable by closing off all airways (except of course our doors--which I really couldn't caulk because we'd not be able to leave the house now would we).

Meantime, in walks my husband with this ginormous tub of green tomatoes and picked peppers. He's like, My god there must be twenty pounds of tomatoes here! These are great fried, you know, like you fry onion rings. . . heating them helps break down the bitter taste, etc. (Once a scientist, always a scientist.)

After the green tomato deluge, I'd thought it'd be best to just yank the remaining plants from the ground and donate them to the compost heap. (Godforbid should I have more green tomatoes.) Plus, I couldn't take looking at the mess another minute. All I've got left in the garden are my herbs, some collard greens, little cabbages, broccoli, zinnias, marigolds and enough brussel sprouts to feed a small army of minature people stuffed cabbage for the rest of their life.

And when I planted the seedlings for these cruciferous minis, I had no idea what to expect come fall. I'm no fan of the brussel sprout. But Dr. Thyme convinced me I could become a fan.

The cruciferous patch. Probably my most favorite part of the garden by a long shot. This little square patch of edibles literally demanded nearly zero attention this summer. My kind of gardening!

After discussing the options for the green tomatoes, we've decided that I should can them. After a bit of research, I found a great little recipe for salsa verde. I'll keep you posted.