At this point, you’ve likely discerned that I’m somewhat obsessed with, and resigned to the fact, that the world is approaching its fiery end. Unfortunate to be sure. But eschatology aside, I see no point in letting a little thing like the Apocalypse ruin a good batch of tomatoes. As the saying goes, “you can’t take your tomatoes with you.” Or something like that.
To this end, I made another batch of gazpacho – this time with a multitude of red heirlooms — and my third BLT in the past week (four if you count today’s lunch, and why wouldn’t you?). Actually, it was a BAT, as I prefer the bite of arugula to butter or iceberg lettuce. I also prefer my bacon uber-crispy, just this side of burnt (or burned, if you prefer). To be honest, I shouldn’t really eat bacon at all, what with my borderline cholesterol, erratic blood pressure, and pudgy midsection. But I suppose that’s one of the few joys in believing the world is about to end — you can eat all the burnt bacon you want.