Tomato Carnage
an eventful afternoon while processing tomatoes
Red, yellow and orange diced tomatoes sit in a plastic bag lining a glass bowl. To the side is a bamboo cutting board
There has been so much going on… It’s hard to keep up sometimes. There are so many things competing for my attention and it’s difficult to resist the urge to numb out while watching reality tv to avoid feeling difficult emotions. Amidst the fifth year of a global pandemic multiple genocides and a chaotic election cycle, to name a few external factors, there is also all that is going on internally. I can’t lie it’s felt like my inner world is a mess of uncertainty, doubt, guilt, sadness all roiling and overflowing.
Each time I give myself a bit of space to be outside in nature or to breath in a moment of silence, I connect more to an inner knowing that has always been there. Striving always to be more present. One thing that has really been grounding for me recently has been volunteering at some local farms where I live. Doing the physical labor of farming takes me out of my head and into my body. Using my body for selfless service to those who are doing the revolutionary work of farming feels so fulfilling. In exchange for a day of work on the farm I received a produce crate full of gorgeous summer tomatoes. Bulbous heirlooms of deep red and orange, tubular Romas, and Sungold cherries. The crate had been sitting on my kitchen table over the weekend while I went to work at the coffee shop, and each day I looked longingly upon the tomatoes, picking one up to see that they were not spoiling.
Finally today was the day I set aside to process all the tomatoes. Waking up in the morning, I already knew that each task that day would feel like a struggle. A struggle to finish the chores and the tasks so that I could just lay down. Amidst the folding of laundry, washing of dishes, taking of shower—my usual day off tasks—I applied myself to the tomatoes.
White enamel sink and countertop with a bamboo cutting board splattered with the peels, juice and seeds from many tomatoes.
Starting first with bringing a pot of water to a boil. Then scoring the bottom of each tomato with an “X”before dipping them one by one in the shimmering water. Blanching for less then 30 seconds then transfering them into the waiting empty sink. I decided to forego the ice bath, because it just seemed like too much in the moment. After this brief boil, the tomato skins peeled right off and they were diced, and transfered into zip-loc bags to be put in the freezer.
I couldn’t bring myself to clean up the mess just yet and indulged myself with an episode of Love Island UK (the newest season has been SO ‘juicy’ pun intended.) Coming back to the sink afterwards, I gazed upon the carnage of tomato skins in the sink and was struck by its composition. It made me think of war and violence, not unlike the images of Gaza etched into my brain from social media. The blood and battle of innocent civilians strewn across my sink
All of a sudden, I hear a scratching sound at the window and I look up in surprise and there is a young squirrel standing at the window. There are Squirrels that live in the walls of our 19th century victorian house. I hear them squabbling inside my bedroom walls in the winter time when they take refuge in the warm crawl spaces. The window is covered by a screen but is the type of window that opens outward from the bottom with a hinged part at the top corners. The squirrel was standing on the metal support like a balance beam. It was looking nervously around and turning, trying to develop an exit strategy.
I watched and talked to the squirrel for a few minutes, wondering if I should try and help it, by letting it in. But I remembered my cat dozing in the other room and decided against it. After those few minutes the squirrel seemed to pluck up some courage to scrabble down the side of the house before leaping down the rest of the way using a lily of the valley flower bush to break its fall to the ground.
I was inspired by the bravery of the squirrel and how it got itself out of a sticky situation with relative ease. As an observer, I was delighted and transformed by the encounter.
Whenever I’m trying to stave off overwhelm it helps to give my total focus to the task at hand. In this case, processing the tomatoes, peeling the skins and feeling the warm soft flesh beneath with my fingers gave my mind a reprieve from my spiraling thoughts. While my hands worked my mind wandered, allowing me to be totally present with myself and accept everything true in that moment.
