the ancient mariner
Beefsteak tomatoes so big we had people come to look at them and question how and why. My father would bury fish heads and entrails, etc during the fall when the bluefish were running. Bluefish were wonderful off Rockaway and the Jersey shore. Then next year the tomato plants were in the ground as soon as possible and we had the best crop of the most delicious tomatoes in the world. One slice of tomato covered a whole slice of white bread—Wonder, Silvercup, Taystee, or whatever. Just butter on the bread and a thick slice of dad’s tomatoes was HEAVEN. No mayo, no nothing. I can still taste them and feel the juice running down my tee shirt.