Thanks, Harriet.


Growing up Italian-American, I always associated raw tomatoes with a gush of olive oil, copious salt, and basil. Most of the time, to be perfectly honest, I still do.
I am also a voracious reader, and identified closely with Harriet from Harriet the Spy. Harriet the spy ate a tomato sandwich for lunch, daily, without fail. And she spied on her neighbors and wrote down her observations in a clandestine, top security notebook. I mean, I loved tomatoes and notebooks-it was a match made in heaven.
There was one issuer, however-Harriet took her tomato sandwich on white bread, with MAYONNAISE.
As I child, I hated mayo. And everyone (Italian) knew you didn’t serve a tomato sandwich on limp, white, non-crusty bread. Seriously.
Fast forwarding to adulthood, I made one of those discoveries so many of us make when taking responsibility, for the first time, for truly feeding ourselves. It wasn’t mayo I hated-it was the fat-free, taste free version my mother preferred.
Recalling Harriet, I tried again-

The unctuous mayo against the crisp, bright, garden-fresh tomato, with the flimsy white bread acting as a lackluster crouton, unable to contain the juiciness (or, in my house at the moment, the sandwich flat bread-gotta make up for the real mayo calories somehow!) It is a three-napkin meal of late summer deliciousness.
Thanks, Harriet.


4 thoughts on “Thanks, Harriet.

  1. craz Zina

    We must also thank the native americans for cultivating this great gift that has become ubiquitous throughout Europe and the rest of the world.


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