Is That Too Much To Ask?
Fries, futbol, and the eternal tomato struggle.
I must have been craving fries—or daydreaming about my next trip to Europe—because big brother Instagram delivered a reel comparing McDonald’s fries across the Atlantic.
Same golden arches. Different fries.
The European version: potatoes (locally sourced), vegetable oil, dextrose, salt. The American version adds artificial flavors, silicone oil, and sodium acid pyrophosphate.
In English, they skip the additives and artificial preservatives.
The food is better in Europe. Healthier too. Fewer chemicals and pesticides (hello, Red Dye 3), less processing, intentionally smaller portions, higher-quality ingredients. This is my unscientific opinion based on a month-long stay on the continent a few years ago.
That said, when I did a deep dive on Europe’s produce, I found their agricultural practices aren’t all that different from ours.
And yet.
The fruit and vegetables I had in Italy were superior. The tomatoes and strawberries I grabbed off the shelves in Orvieto—a small city of 20,000—were nothing like what we get here. Unless you’re plucking them straight from the vines at Ward’s Berry Farm in Sharon. (In fairness, Orvieto sits on fertile volcanic soil. The place is basically cheating.)
My Summer Nemesis
It’s the tomatoes that make me sweat every summer. For years, I’ve planted them in my garden beds. For years, they’ve disappointed me.
Nothing seems to matter. Pesticides or not, companion flowers, great sunlight, careful pruning—they’re destined to let me down.
Not this year.
I started indoors with my makeshift greenhouse, a Father’s Day gift from Erin and Coleen last year. Good soil, proper sunlight, water, and prime conditions before they move outdoors in due time.
I also decided not to go nuts and buy potted plants from Ward’s Berry. Starting right from the seeds this year. $3.95 for the packet. This way, if they’re lousy, I won’t be disappointed.
Or as disappointed.
The only things that never disappoint: cucumbers, basil, and mint.
Beers Ave Memories
Growing up on Beers Ave, we tried just about everything over the years. Corn, potatoes, beans, peppers, tomatoes, strawberries, cucumbers, squash, carrots, onions, herbs—yeah, Dad was into it. I get it now. I just don’t know why these past few summers have been so lousy for the garden.
The animals. The bugs. The excessive heat waves. Across the board, it’s been rough, but the tomatoes have been the worst.
Honk If You Like Pickles
That’s what the billboard says in Walpole on Route 1, across from the Big Y.
I never do. Coleen does.
That’s not the only strange thing happening in our town. In a few short months, thousands will traverse up and down that same Route 1—probably honking their horns because they love pickles—heading to and from Gillette Stadium for World Cup matches.
Campbell was lucky enough to secure tickets through the lottery, so we’ll be attending a couple of games. And Dave Belcher is taking me to see Scotland play Morocco. He was a good roommate all four years at Fairfield, and he’s still looking out for me.
The Battle Plan
By the time the World Cup starts, those tomatoes will be firmly planted in the ground and flowering. I’ll have pruned and fenced in the beds, and you can bet my tomato plants will be surrounded by the finest array of plant guards:
Marigolds. Nasturtiums. Petunias. Chives. Lavender. Sage. And one of my favorites—parsley.
My brother-in-law, Dave Cooks, says a wind chime may keep away the squirrels, so I’m getting one of those. They work on his peach tree. Maybe they’ll work for the garden bed.
And yes—circling back to where we started (Instagram and french fries)—I did succumb to buying some kind of solar-powered vibrating mole distractor, so those jerks stop digging holes in the yard and under the stoop. I have little faith it’ll work, but I’m a sucker for a good marketing reel.
Soon, the Europeans will be in town for FIFA. They’ll suffer through our additives and preservatives in exchange for wins on the fútbol pitch.
Me? I’m just looking to suffer through a productive tomato season.
Is that too much to ask?
Have a good week.
