MICKI BARE Advertisement

As we hit the road Memorial Day weekend to visit with family and friends and enjoy the outdoors, beware the roadside stands and farmers markets. Visit them, by all means. Pick up fresh veggies for the grill, herbs and annuals for the garden and a fresh bouquet for the table. But be careful not to fall into the trap of extreme optimism.

Stopping at a popular farmers market with the girls, my goal was to get a good deal on tomatoes and string beans. I could freeze both, and it would be nice to have some local veggies in the house rather than shop for unsalted, canned products.

A side note is important here: In an effort to provide the best nutrition possible for my family, I am a label-reader. I do my best to keep additives, preservatives and trans fats out of our home. We prepare as much food as we can from scratch. Therefore, I look forward to the summertime when I can pick up fresh produce from roadside stands and farmers markets.

Walking from booth to booth, I found some must-have herbs. I picked out and purchased two healthy basil plants -- one spicy and one cinnamon. I was careful to buy only what I could plant in the next couple of days, even though the place was filled with great-looking herbs I knew I needed. I ran the basil to my car and then went back for vegetables.

I checked out produce availability and compared prices. String beans weren't out yet so I concentrated on tomatoes.

Prices varied, but only by about 75 cents either way. The tomatoes were plump and red and round. I pictured myself skinning and dicing tons of fresh tomatoes to use for sauces and soups all year.

Recalling the story of the hardworking ants and lazy grasshopper, I decided to be an ant. I was going to buy lots of juicy tomatoes and prepare them for winter. I wouldn't have to buy expensive produce or canned veggies for months -- maybe even a year.

As I was daydreaming about skinning, chopping and freezing my inexpensive, locally grown, fresh, organic bounty, a sign caught my eye. It read "CANNING TOMATOES, $10 A BOX."

I moved closer. The box looked pretty big. The tomatoes looked ripe and meaty. I approached the booth. "Are these tomatoes meaty enough for sauce?" I politely asked, not wanting to give away my enthusiasm.

"They're great for sauce," replied the farmer.

"I'll take a box," I immediately replied, pulling a $10 bill out of my wallet. The farmer smiled, took the money and carried the box to my car.

When I arrived home with my excellent tomato deal, my first priority was to prepare them for the freezer. Hubby put the box in the kitchen and I boiled some water and began dipping and skinning.

"You're not going to cut up and freeze that whole box of tomatoes today, are you?"

"Sure," I said with extreme optimism. "If I don't, they'll go bad. They're ripe and ready for freezing." Hubby shook his head and left me to my work.

A few hours later, tomato juice dripping from my elbows, slimy seeds and skin strewn around the counter and splattered on the floor, chunks of tomatoes in quart freezer bags lined up across the kitchen table, I was exhausted.

My back ached, my feet hurt and my eyes burned after sustaining several squirts of acidic juice. Two fingers were haphazardly bandaged after I'd nicked them with the knife. I'd also scalded my arms a couple of times while dropping tomatoes in the boiling water.

After hours of self-sacrificing effort, the $10 box of tomatoes was still more than half full. What was I thinking? I could've bought just a few pounds to start. But no, I had to save five bucks. What was wrong with canned tomatoes, anyway? No wonder the canning companies use machines to skin, de-seed and dice tomatoes. Humans aren't capable.

Hubby returned to check on me, shaking his head and looking in the box. "I think I'll finish this tomorrow -- or maybe work on it over the next few days," I said to him as I began to pack up shop.

"But won't they go bad? Aren't they ripe and ready for freezing?" Hubby inquired.

"They'll keep a day or two," I wearily responded. I knew that when the job was done, I'd be proud of my work and thankful to have the fresh, locally grown, preservative-free food in my house ready to prepare for my family. However, that night, not only did I sleep really well, I also dreamed of being a carefree, canned-veggie loving grasshopper -- if only just for one season.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.