Yes, I'm talking to you, Green Tomatoes. God knows, I'd heard of you, cause of that 1991 movie with Kathy Bates as Evelyn Couch. But, Southerner that I am, I somehow never tasted immature green tomatoes until plump and sun-ripened, all crimson and tender. Granted this was a daily ritual, with S & P and mayo, of course, all delicately arranged beside cornbread, with lima beans and rice and oh-my-god shrimp boiled in beer. Et voila: a perfect summer ritual, deliciously satisfying and comfortingly familiar. I can always depend on the ripened crimson you to bring a meal alive. But how different I am cause of you in your immature green state. I am amazed.
When I was--finally, at long last, and quite recently--served you green, in the deep-South tradition
