If you saw me at a farmers’ market, you’d think I was in the grip of Homer Simpson’s “tomacco,” the addictive tomato-tobacco hybrid he grew accidentally. But I am under the power of something, and it’s more powerful than nicotine, or even an heirloom at its best, which is pretty seductive. Hype — that’s what’s got me by the wallet. Where’s it coming from? I’d like to blame Big Tomato, but although it is true that large commercial growers have invaded the heirloom market, I’m getting mine from independent, earnest farmers — the sort who would play Drew Barrymore’s love interest in a rom-com. And Small Tomato is certainly not the enemy.
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