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To enjoy the late great summer produce, I bought some heirloom tomatoes at the farmer’s market the weekend before last. A couple of days later with my new $100 of the week, I finally bought some olive oil and feta at the middle eastern market to make a tomato salad, excited to have all three elements in the house. Strangely, it tasted like soap. It wasn’t residue from my dish washing in the bowl or knife, it didn’t even taste like my dishwashing liquid. I washed the tomatoes with a scrub brush and water, no soap. But each bite of tomato was punishment for saying a curse word. I told a friend who said that persimmons often taste soapy to her, and that sometimes heirloom tomatoes taste like persimmons. I came to distrust the fancy heirloom tomatoes.

A week later, realizing that I still had some feta, I thought I’d give the tomato salad another try, this time with grape tomatoes. Soapy yet again! I tried the feta only this time, and it might as well have been a bar of Ivory soap. Didn’t I ask for a 1/4 pound of cheese, not soap, from the counter where it was freshly displayed? I’m so disappointed, I thought it would be a new go to place for a little bit of feta and merguez sausage. Now, I don’t think so. Little tomatoes, I’ll never think ill of you again.

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