Margo: Fall harvest is short, but oh

Ibring the tomato from TomiAnne’s garden to my nose and inhale deeply, that distinct scent of fruit, dirt and ivy wafting up my nose. It takes me right back to the farm stand at the end of the street I grew up on in rural western Connecticut where we’d eat fresh tomatoes like apples, the juice and seeds running down our chins.

TomiAnne sends us home with a brown bag full of her fall harvest. The red and yellow tomatoes, basil and peppers look like a piece of art when I empty them into my favorite wooden bowl. I run to the store for French bread and mozzarella cheese and serve the heirloom tomatoes caprese-style on crostini with the basil. I don’t have balsamic, so I do a little lemon zest, lemon juice and drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper.

“Oh my God this is so good,” my friend Hop