Smooth. Sweet 100s. Perfect little bites. The skin is tight so when you put one in your mouth you have to pop them open to release the sweet, careful to keep your mouth closed so it doesn’t spray everywhere. Sometimes when you pick them, if they are ripe and warm, they’ll split open as they come off the stem.
When Dexter was still here, he loved them so much he tried to pick his own but couldn’t tell if they were ripe and would leave a trail of squished green ones behind him. He was so happy when I would grab a container and say, “let’s go pick some tomatoes” because he knew he’d get some, and every one of them would be ripe. This is a picture of him his last summer, when we put in a tomato plant just for him. I told him he could have all the tomatoes off that plant all to himself, even though I knew he’d probably be gone before it got fruit, before they were ready to eat — and he was. Letting him go, missing him has been anything but smooth.