
As the Minnesota State Fair approaches, and I start seeing apples and squash showing up on my order guides, I want to gather every crazy-shaped, sweet, juicy heirloom tomato in our cooler, and just . . . just hug them, really. There is nothing worse than a store-bought tomato, unless it's from the co-op, and even that's really not the same. I bought some heirlooms at the St. Paul Farmer's Market a week ago and cut thick, misshapen slices for a hummus sandwich on pita bread. I tucked in some crunchy lettuce and whole basil leaves from my herb garden, and chowed down. Tomato juice ran down my arms, to my elbows as I gobbled it down, giddy with summer. It goes by too fast.