We’ve got a problem.  Nothing catastrophic or even remotely unpleasant actually.  Just the same dilemma we face this time every year.  As far as problems go, this one’s nothing to complain about.  Cherry tomatoes—oodles of them.  Our plants are loaded with ripe fruit. Their branches bend and droop, hunched over like weary workers bearing the evidence of a season’s hard labor.  We harvest each morning—bowls and baskets crowd our counters, bite-sized red and orange orbs spill over the sides.  Sweet, juicy sungolds.  Plus the grape tomatoes we added this summer—like miniature Romas, firm and dense.

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In our kitchen garden, vines scale a crude trellis fashioned from mismatched scraps of wood, lashed together with twine.  Curly green tendrils flex and extend like wispy arms, to grab hold of anything within reach—a neighboring tomato plant or low-hanging tree branch.  Their grip is surprisingly firm and unrelenting.  There’s no way to wiggle free of this tangled hug.

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We’ve been hit hard by Olympic fever—gymnastics, volleyball, swimming, even dressage.  Perched on the edge of our seats, we’re glued to the action—alternately gnawing at our nails and cheering our hearts out.  We love the games not just for the athletic feats, but the connection with brilliant flags and compelling personalities across the globe, too.  Red, white and blue.  And more.

National colors inspire us this week.  In the kitchen even.  Unfortunately, the American ones are somewhat limiting.  Blue food?  The options are quickly exhausted.  No matter—we’re drawn to the stories from far-off countries as easily as those close to home.  Especially where vegetable-hued banners of red, white and green fly high.

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