You say tomato … but I say, ‘Enough already!’

My house has been overrun by tomatoes. I swear to you, they are everywhere. They are in the fridge. They are on the counter. They are in the freezer. It’s like a scene from that TV show “Hoarders” only instead of newspapers and clothes stacked up everywhere, we have tomatoes. Frankly, it’s terrifying. And the worst part? I planted the stupid things. Also? I used to like tomatoes.

Our descent into tomato hell started last spring when we were in Los Gatos. I was having a wonderful time, tasting cheeses and wine and going to stores that sell all kinds of cooking supplies – which basically is stuff I never use but greatly enjoy looking at and wondering who the heck buys things like cheese slicers and paella pans. At one point we wandered into a store run by a woman who had a bunch of tomato plants.

And according to her, these were no ordinary tomatoes. These were heirloom. And exotic. And guaranteed to grow. So we bought four plants. Four. Four very tiny tomato plants. And we planted them. And one day they grew very big. And from those four tomato plants we are producing a tomato harvest so large we could feed the planet.

I swear to you, I have gone out on sunny mornings and seen two tomatoes on the vine. And by afternoon, 17 billion are hanging from branches, ready for harvest. And because I couldn’t convince Harry and Junior to stand on the street corner and give the tomatoes away to unsuspecting victims, I made a list of the things I should be doing with our tomatoes.

1. Eat them. Yes, this sounds like the perfect solution, but let’s be real here. There are only so many tomatoes you can eat at every single meal before you start feeling like you are a giant, red ball of tomato. I mean, we’ve eaten them raw. We’ve eaten them in sauce. We’ve eaten them in sandwiches. We’ve eaten tomato soup. We’ve eaten tomato pie. We have eaten tomatoes stuffed into every type of meal you can imagine. And we still have tomatoes in the fridge, on the counters and growing on the dang vines.

2. Can them. Now this would be the perfect idea, except I don’t really cook all that well. And botulism is one of those diseases that I believe can kill you. So canning isn’t an option for us. Even on days when I’m really, really ticked off and Harry and/or Junior, I can’t imagine poisoning them. Well, OK, fine, some days I can IMAGINE it, but that doesn’t mean I’d do it.

3. Freeze them. Oh, I’ve done this. I have cooked the tomatoes into a disgusting, slimy, red mush and put them in freezer bags and very gently stacked them in the freezer. And stacked them. And stacked them. Until the point that I cannot fit one more stack of tomatoes in the freezer and every time I open the stupid thing a group of tomatoes leaps out and attacks me.

Let me just say right now that tomatoes get very hard when they are frozen. And I only have so many toes for them to attack. Also? Ice cream no longer fits in the freezer. This is a real tragedy in my house. I have to eat the entire carton of salted caramel gelato the minute I buy it because there is no place to store it. This is a travesty, people. One carton of salted caramel gelato a day means I don’t fit in my fat pants.

But today I came up with a new plan – no, I’m not going to stand in the middle of Santa Teresa and pelt cars with tomatoes. Nope, I’m going to bag them and give them away. So don’t say I didn’t warn you that 17 billion tomatoes may be headed to your doorstep. Hope you have room in your freezer.