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Published: January 11th 2010
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The Pulga’s Tomatoes
Last weekend I made my usual trek by guagua to the Saturday Pulga, 200 meters or so east of the Texaco east of town.
I bought what was perhaps the largest beefsteak tomato I have ever seen from Deb Suwala, Cabarete's own “first water” organic farmer. It was a one pound plus monster of some heirloom variety with a deep magenta color and a dark purple capping. I also bought a Black Russian type and a yellow. Picked ripe. Everyone of them. None of this half-green foolishness.
I put them in the refrigerator as soon as I got home. A few hours later I got hungry and sliced into the Black Russian and ate. I said to myself, “This is the best tomato I ever had.” And that is saying something, because I have been organic gardening since 1965, and learned from my father who gardened close to organic.
Even with homegrown tomatoes I usually need to eat them with a little mayonnaise to dull the acid edge. Not with these. Sweet. . . but not like sugar added. The flavor and the sweetness are irrevocably bound together. You won't believe it till you
Deb Suwala and her organic produce
Deb Suwala and her organic produce at the Saturday Pu;ga. Cabarete, Dominican Republic try it.
Then I cut into the yellow one. Chewed, and without hesitation, and not realizing what I was saying, said, “This is the best tomato I ever had.” Yup, one right after another.
A yellow tomato is not supposed to get accolades, usually having less flavor than the reds. Not so with this. I left half to eat later and sliced into the beefsteak, which because of its girth, I had intended to save for sandwiches using bread from Panaderia Dick's. And again, without realizing what I was saying, “This is the best tomato I ever had.” And it was. Better than the other two, and all were de-luscious.
None had a sharp acid edge to them. None. Zip. Nunca. Nada.
I swilled them all down in one day.
As a rule, I simply do not eat that many tomatoes.
I got another couple of pounds the next day when I met Deb at Claro --- the lunch joint, not the phone place. And those were gone in two days, along with a pound of her first-class cocktail tomatoes.
What is the mystery behind one tomato being better than the previous, even eaten in reverse order?
That secret Deb revealed several weeks before: bat guano. Yep. That's it, bat poop ... . . straight from the caves of the living rock of our mother isle, Hispaniola, and mixed into the earth of our fair Dominican Republic, thus producing tomatoes great enough to grace the table of the invincible Genghis Khan, the man who made Julius Caesar look like a recalcitrant five year old brat. By extension, these have become the Genghis Khan of tomatoes. Hence, they will change whatever you think about tomatoes . . . whether you like it or not.
Deb's Genghis Khan Tomatoes --- Tomatoes that kick ass.
(Deb Suwala is starting a new organic farm and will be away from the market until the end of March or beginning of April, when its first harvest comes in.
Her produce will also be sold in downtown Cabarete at a new restaurant she and some friends are starting. This will be the first restaurant in the Caribbean with its own organic farm.
The town is moving along.)
Nazareth
About a dozen years ago, a lone, long-haired, straggly-bearded hippie, wandered into this little town out in the campo of the Dominican Republic’s north side, not quite 20 kilometers behind the seaside village of Cabarete.
It was a poor village of simple folk living at a subsistence level on small farms with a few cows and a smattering of sheep and goats.
The town was somewhat isolated because its citizens did not much cotton to neighboring townspeople. They eyed strangers either indifferently or with the cold, hard stare of distain.
In an unusual gesture, the people took pity on the bedraggled stranger who appeared to have lost his way. He was accepted and given a place to stay. He soon noticed that the milk of the animals was fed mostly to the pigs.
He purchased some of it for himself to make his favorite cheese. This he shared with the townspeople who became curious about his labors. They so liked the cheese, they gave him a few bits of food in exchange for converting their milk into his cheese. Its goodness grew on them.
In time, they learned to make it themselves. They liked the cheese s-o-o-o much they killed and ate the swine and made yet more cheese with the resulting extra milk. They smiled and their eyes glowed when they ate it. It lifted their spirits.
The cheese made them so happy, soon their attitude changed toward the neighboring townspeople. Within a few months, they made enough cheese to sell to them as well.
The village prospered. They had learned to make an unusual, excellent, mixed-animal, grass-fed cheese from three milks. Very first class.
Some of it found its way into Cabarete, where it can be bought in a few markets. Ask for it by name. You can’t go wrong.
Cheeses of Nazareth
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