Tuesday, September 19, 2000

 

11:32 p.m. I am so, so, so happy to be back here and writing this journal. What a feeling of power I have again ... the power to lift a little bit of time out of the rushing stream and hold it in my hands for just a few seconds and examine it. Take its picture. Report it to you.

I'm especially proud of the pictures. Since I am a rank amateur and have no career goals when it comes to photography, I can just grab the camera and bring back happy moments. Isn't it thrilling to find these moments hiding right there in the everyday? Those tomatoes, lined up and waiting to be sacrificed, their shadows longer than their lives ... those plump tomatoes.

Yes, they are watery tomatoes. No, they are not New Jersey tomatoes. I wish.

It was pride, I'm convinced, that drove me away for the week, by the way. Can't talk about the weight loss and successful diet because I am too mortified that I allowed myself to gain weight in the first place. Can't talk about the financial trauma because it's just not a fit topic for public consumption. And you know what? Once I've finished lining up the can'ts, there's nothing left to talk about.

So, I slithered away and thought silently about my plight for a week.

It actually calmed me down. Perhaps the act of forming a rationalization for each and every event in series of setbacks and troubles was just too exhausting. Better to grab the watery tomato and chop it up and just call the whole thing ratatouille and be done with it.

And now, because I am dieting and doing myself proud, I give you one of my secret diet recipes. Whenever I make this particular dish, people always ask for the recipe, and I am happy to share it with you right now.

Ok, here we go. You get yourself a nice, deep bowl and a knife and you line up the tomatoes, as you see in the photo. Slice and chop a tomato *over* the bowl so that all the juice is captured. Repeat until the tomatoes are all chopped up.

With a fork in one hand and a salt shaker in the other, toss and salt the tomatoes until you think you've tossed and coated them all with salt. (It won't be enough -- you'll see.)

Next, you have many options, but the main part of your recipe is finished. The tomatoes are already starting to respond to the salt. The bowl is full of juice, isn't it? Tomato juice, pure and wonderful.

Now -- you can chop up some onions ultra fine, if you like onions, and toss them in. Or, you can scissor in some fresh basil if you have it handy. Now's the time for the pepper, too. If you're feeling frisky, some dried oregano is nice.

Toss, toss, taste. Needs more salt. Toss. Taste. Yes, it does. More salt.

That's it. You now have a perfect dressing for lettuce, if you like lettuce. If you have some buffalo mozzarella, slice it up and ladle on the tomato slush. If you've just made some nice fluffy hot rice or pasta (lucky you! You can probably control yourself -- I can't. That's why I'm in this diet purgatory in the first place. Were I to make some pasta, I'd go crazy and slurp up every last strand and I'd feel so guilty and so uncomfortable an hour later and then I'd vow never to do it again, but I would), you can toss it all together now.

Well, yes. I've created a recipe rather than totally expose myself.

But trust me on this -- people really like the tomato slush when I make it. And no one's ever said it was too salty.

True.