Fat, juicy chunks of Aunt Ruby’s german greens and black krim tomatoes, torn-up basil leaves, fresh buffalo mozzarella sprinkled with sea salt, cracked pepper and finished with a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic. Simple perfection. This was the taste of summer 2021 for me, and I’ve been fantasising about that explosive flavour combination ever since.
It sounds so wanky, but I’m now one of “those” annoying people who’ll tell you that you “simply haven’t lived until you’ve tasted your very own home-grown tomatoes”.
It’s Labour Weekend, which is traditionally when gardeners across the country prep and plant their tomatoes and other summer crops. My grandparents had incredible green thumbs, and they passed their gift on to my mum, who’s a terrific gardener. Every time I go home to visit for Christmas, her garden is like an outdoor supermarket, teeming full of fresh summer flavours and colour. It’s truly one of the highlights of the holiday season being able to pop out to Mum’s garden to pick and harvest her summer bounty.
Lettuce, tomatoes, and herbs for salads. Strawberries, raspberries and boysenberries, all sun-kissed and ready to be the crowning jewels atop the pavlova, corn freshly shucked and grilled on the barbecue and fat, juicy stone fruit picked straight off the tree and devoured. Mum says it brings her a tremendous amount of joy and satisfaction seeing us enjoy her literal labour of love. I adore exploring Mum’s garden, but the hard work aspect never really appealed to me and I used to think it was an awful lot of effort for something so fleeting.
Until this time last year, my gardening experience was pretty limited to growing a few herbs, kale and silverbeet. My partner and I have been meat-free and predominantly plant-based for nearly six years now, and fresh vegetables are the main star attraction on our dinner plates. It was a trip to the supermarket where I discovered a pack of unfashionable iceberg lettuce was priced at $6.