Tomato

A celebration

Image description: a metal bowl with a green onion, a mushroom and a big red tomato.

I used to be ambivalent about tomatoes. I could take them or leave them. In 2009, I had full body sepsis and a toxic mega colon. My surgeon, Dr Éric Poulin, the head of Ottawa Hospital's surgery department, and his team removed my colon. I've talked about my experiences relating to my near-death health crisis many times.

What's relevant here is that I had an ileostomy. I always have to look up what this means. A small opening was created so that my small intestine could eliminate into an ileostomy appliance or bag rather than through the anus. Nothing is more humbling than seeing the contents of one's bowels so prevalently. It's also quite humorous and human. I felt frailer and more vulnerable than i have ever felt…and bemused, and amazed I was still alive..I still am. It makes me appreciative and grateful. It makes me notice moments and treasure time with good people.

14 months later I had a bowel resection and went back to pooping thru my ass like many of you. Let me say that it is another act of my body I greatly appreciate. I love all that my body can do. My small intestine has taken over the role of my absent colon. Those daily interludes in the bathroom are joyous to me.

Rabbit hole: Ron's family cottage in Gimli, Manitoba had an outhouse. It had a roof made of some kind of translucent green material. It was hot and bright in the outhouse, a homemade affair. It smelled the way outhouses smell. I know that doesn’t sound pleasant but it was. The green light,. the buzz of insects,.the summer…it was a moment of calm and peace. In the winter it was an exciting rush to do one's business,.cold tush on the toilet seat. Also a good memory.

From 2009 until 2011 my diet was moderated to avoid foods that caused obstructions: no nuts, no seeds, no meat casings, no fresh fruit or raw veg, nothing high in fibre. It was what we referred to as a “convenience store diet,” since what I could eat could be found in the food aisles of such stores.

I found eating very nerve wracking. Still do somewhat since I do continue to experience bowel obstructions that land me in ER or sometimes get me admitted to the General and could lead to surgery, which is risky given the severe internal adhesions I have from three abdominal surgeries.

So I'm careful. Some time after the bowel resection when I was able to start eating less restrictively, Charles and I were out. We had started to attend events again a little bit in early 2010 and given I was still fairly frail and exhausted, we eased gently back into going out. Since 2000 / 2001 when I first got involved in the literary community in Ottawa, we had been regular participants and attendees at readings and festivals.

We had had the pleasure of attending one of our favourite local events, the Ottawa International Writers Festival. Back then they were still hosting writers for after parties at a hotel hospitality suite. We were invited.It's always a great opportunity to hang out with the organizers, staff and shyly or not so shyly engage with visiting writers. But that night, my first time back at the suite, I did very little of that.

There were lots of different foods and drink available. Someone passed us a tray of bruschetta: fresh tomatoes on baguette slices covered in cheese and basil. At first I refused, I was still trained not to eat fresh vegetables or fruit. Then I looked at Charles. We've been together a long time. He knew without my having to ask. He suggested I could try one..I tentatively took a bite.

It was heavenly. The most delicious thing I'd ever had. The tomato was sweet, the bread crunchy, the cheese smooth and salty, the basil aromatic and green tasting. Oh my gawd this was better than sex with most men. The ones who thrust monotonous, forgetting they have a tongue, lips, hands, fingers etc. Oops.rabbit hole…

Back to the bruschetta. I had a few more. I was in love. I think i stopped noticing the people in the room. It was just me and the bruschetta. Me and my mouth tasting, chewing, loving that tomsto. The French used to call a tomato a love apple. It was also called a wolf apple. It is the keeper of sunny days. It is fruit, the glistening red is jeweled. I fucking love tomatoes now.

When I eat a seriously good tomato, I want to be Cher in Moonstruck with long black tresses down my back, attending an opera. La Bohème, Carmen. La vita è bella.

In autumn 2023 I made coffee dates with friends who wanted to buy my new poetry book, Beast Body Epic. One of those friends was brilliant poet, prolific gardener, Monty Reid. Monty also brought a few tomatoes from his garden. Readers, they were so delicious. Way better than any I've had from stores. It was an early autumn day, the weather was still warm. We were outside on the Art House Cafe patio.

I also had coffee with Ron in early 2024. We had to meet inside but it was a sunny day. I remember how beautiful the sky was, the light and the blue. We had a great conversation, i wish i could still remember. He bought the book, and I inscribed it to him and his wife.

Ron was a big fan of the toasted tomato sandwich. He preferred white bread for the sandwich, but sometimes we used those seedy whole wheat loaves. He buttered it, adding a thin layer of mayonnaise. He always said that thin layer was essential. He added a little salt and pepper, then slices of tomato. The sandwich seemed meaty to me. Even though it contained nothing but tomatoes. It was a favourite meal back when we lived in Gloucester in the 90s.

Last night Charles and I made a delicious stew that contained a homemade tomato sauce blend. It was spicy and full of the taste of summer. On a night when the sky was purple with snow,.and it was cold,it was such a warming bowl of comfort.

I'll likely tell you more about it in one of the Real Shopping Cart posts.

I began writing about my newfound love of tomatoes after years of ambivalence to put something about nutritious and delightful food into the world because frankly I was getting tired of seeing all the baked goods in my feeds, foods I can have only in moderation.

Writing this post has reminded me of dietary restrictions I had for some time which meant I couldn’t eat fresh fruit and veg. It reminded me that we are all different. What is safe and nutritious for me may not be for you. What is affordable for me may not be for you. Whatever you enjoy, I celebrate with you, and I hope you can have enough of what you need and enjoy.

I can no longer eat baguette slices or toast, but I can still savour a ripe red juicy love apple, wolf apple…tomato! Huzzah!

I'm also reminded of lovers, the ones I had chemistry with, how much joy there was in those moments. The celebration of learning one another's bodies, tasting, giving and receiving pleasure. That moment of love.

A tomato for me is perhaps like Proust's madeleine dipped in tea: a memory evoked. A moment to savour.