I pulled these from the ground a couple of days before it started snowing again, on my mother's birthday--it would have been her ninty-seventh. It made me think again how she wasn't interested in gardening, which I believe she associated with loss and failure and sadness, and she put it behind her, with the other parts of her childhood that she didn't want to remember. She appreciated a good homegrown tomato though, if she didn't have to grow it herself.I didn't do anything to these except clean, chop, and steam. They tasted like the ultimate essence of carrots, sweet and sharp and intense.
