Judge the cover by the book

Every summer I ask Steve to grow heirloom tomatoes, and every year he does. For the uninitiated, heirloom tomatoes are those knobby, bulbous, scaly tomatoes that, if available at your local grocery store at all (I mean, who in their right mind would merchandise those? They’re ugly!) often go untouched (admittedly, they can be a bit expensive). They’re also the sweetest and tastiest of the bunch (so well worth the extra coin), and make the best toasted tomato sandwiches ever.

When I was a kid, my mom canned homemade apple sauce. When my childhood friends stayed for lunch, they’d always skip dessert because the apple sauce wasn’t white like the stuff their parents bought at Miracle Mart. Hmpf. They didn’t know what they were missing!

It’s funny how we judge books by their covers. Think: “I could never vote for x because he’s black, she’s gay, he’s Muslim, etc.” when dismissing a politician who could also be the most balanced, adult, just or fiscally responsible. Or the flip side: “I’m voting for x because he’s white, she’s straight, he’s Christian, he’s handsome, etc.”

When we judge the contents by the package, we miss the gems. Even worse, we usually end up with the duds that aren’t all that, even though their pretty packaging suggested otherwise.

Don’t be fooled by the shiny cover. Instead, dive deep. Be courageous. Rifle around that box and find the most Frankensteiny tomato you can and choose that one. You may be pleasantly surprised by how good it tastes.