Harvest of Friends

Artwork by Micheal DiMilo

By Geoff Carter

Last February, the historic first meeting of our Tomato Club commenced in the backroom of the Waterford Wine Company. Snow was on the ground, the temperature was below freezing, and spring was nowhere in sight, yet that didn’t stop us from bringing our seed catalogs, our ideas, our experience—and some really good wine—to the table. I detailed just some of the goings-on at that meeting in my blog post “New Growth”

I had started about a dozen varieties of heirloom tomatoes in early March, germinating them from seed in my basement which gives me a greater choice of varieties and prevents disease from coming in on infected seedlings (a lesson I learned the hard way).  Other members were starting other varieties. We traded. Green Zebras, Cherokee Purples, Abel Lincolns, Queen of the Nights, and more changed hands. Now today, nearly eight months later, our first growing season is coming to a close. Our plants have grown from tiny seeds, borne fruit, matured, and are now near the end of their lifespan. It’s a little sad seeing them begin to wither as the autumn leaves began to fall. 

By and large, the Tomato Club had a good amount of success this year. We discovered some excellent new heirloom varieties (Dr. Wyche Yellow and Queen of the Night rock) as well as some interesting gardening techniques—such as using corkscrew grow supports inside the tomato cages and “pinching suckers”, or new leaf growth between branches, to promote production. We had varied success with seeds harvested from our fruits the year before—some came up and some didn’t. The marigolds were particularly finicky. This season, as always, I fought my typical never-ending battles with early blight and Septoria leaf spot—my fungal nemeses. Amy and I had close encounters with the dreaded Squash Vine Borer and powdery mildew.

No growing season is ever the same. Some are excessively wet and cool, or stormy and dry, but this summer was a particularly odd one in Wisconsin. It was extremely dry and unusually hot from the end of July through August. Tomatoes typically will not ripen during extreme heat. They are also very thirsty plants. Turning on the irrigation hose weekly became a must; we had to irrigate to ensure that the plants got enough water, but while the water bill went up, the dry conditions helped suppress some of the more common viruses. The end result of these atypical conditions was that after a first wave of ripening in late July, the rest of the tomatoes seemed to take forever to go red—until we got into September. 

My own tomatoes seemed to get a second wind. I had thought my Brandywine Pinks were played out at the beginning of September, but fruits suddenly started forming and growing at a surprisingly rapid rate. New Dr. Wyches and Cherokee Purples popped out as well. All of a sudden, I had tomatoes up the ying-yang again. No season is ever the same. But for every positive in the garden comes a negative Some years an excess of moisture might cause early infestations of Septoria Leaf Spot or other viral infections but cause prolific growth and production. This year the oppressive heat and dryness seemed at first to cause a pause in ripening but then later a huge second surge. Weird.  

The tomato club got together about once a month during the growing season. Between  Kris and I, Amy and Les, Jim and Brenda, and Ben and Sabina, we had great meetings—no, I meant to say parties. We’d get together at somebody’s house, have dinner, drink some phenomenal wine (after all, we all met working at a fine wine store), and tour gardens. Some dinners were themed, some were more impromptu, but the one thing they had in common was that they all were a blast. 

At Jim’s house, which showcased a Mexican-themed meal, we sampled salsas and other dishes made with our homegrown tomatoes. We also sampled some excellent tequilas—Anejos, Extranejo, Raicilla (technically not a tequila), and even a Margarita or two. Conversation was lively and ranged from politics to business to cooking to wines to sports. We even spent about fifteen minutes talking about gardening after touring Jim’s garden and sampling each others’ recipes.

At our place, we were able to enjoy a very pleasant evening outside. We toured the garden, and I talked about the beneficial insects I always invite into my tomato patch. I tried to find one of my praying mantises, but they were being anti-social that night. Les told a fascinating story about a wine no longer available because a Russian oligarch had bought up the entire supply—except for the few Les had hung onto. It was great and easy to understand why the Russian was bogarting it.

At Rae and Michael’s, we spent the night in their breezeway, sipping some great Gruner Veltliner before touring their beautiful garden. Not only do they grow vegetables, but their yard is a beautifully orchestrated explosion of color and fragrances. Giant hostas graced the trunk of an ancient ash tree.  

At Amy’s, the penultimate meeting of the season, everyone brought in a sample of what they had grown, and we had a tomato “tasting”. Amy had neatly laid out all the tomatoes in a row and even had a tasting sheet to help us chart notes. And it was fascinating how different each variety tasted, not unlike a fine wine. I’d been growing heirlooms for years, and of course was aware that some are sweeter and less acidic or even—like Dr. Wyche’s Yellow, have a hint of mango in their taste—but tasting them side by side was a revelation of the subtlety of their flavors. We decided which were the best and worth regrowing the next year and discussed what new varieties might be fun to try.

Tomato Tasting

We had another great night. By this time, the people who had begun as acquaintances with a common interest in gardening had become fast friends. We’d eaten together, shared gardening knowledge, recipes, stories, jokes, and fine wine. The seeds we’d planted in winter had blossomed into a diverse and fascinating group of friends. 

Granted, some of us had known each other prior to the club. Some were mere acquaintances, but as the year progressed and our gardens grew, the relationships developed as quickly as our little seedlings grew. The friendships grew stronger, bore fruit, and like our gardens, will constantly keep producing new and varied ideas, hopes, and techniques. We will continue to help, support, and grow with and for each other. 

In an age where isolation, fear, and divisiveness are rending the fabric of our society, it’s refreshing to be involved in an endeavor focused on people and an outside activity—without a television screen. No matter what our other differences may be, the Tomato Club joins us in our common passion—wine. No, sorry, I meant to say tomatoes. 

So, we harvested more than just tomatoes and other veggies this year. We harvested solidarity, hope, and satisfaction for jobs well done. We harvested camaraderie, support, and love.