The Gazpacho Post.

It's happening. The vegetable garden in our side yard, the one that replaced five or six sad, scraggly, prickly shrubs, is ready for harvesting. What I mean is, there's one tomato that has officially turned an orange-red, and dozens of others that will ripen over the next few weeks.

Todd tended an enormous garden at our old house, the house that was less than six-hundred square feet but on two private, wood-edged acres. We had bushels of tomatoes then, and I used, for starters, fresh thyme almost every time I cooked or mixed up anything. This is our fourth full summer in what I still think of as our new house, and the first time we've dedicated the time and space to grow anything that we can eat. Gazpacho is around the corner.

Marley, a five-year-old who turns up her nose (and her entire head, with her arms crossed in defiance: see Hmph, June 2009 for an approximation) at everyday delights like apples and bananas, has thankfully started eating more vegetables this summer, partly because of our garden and partly because of the CSA we rejoined after a three-year hiatus.

She has eaten and enjoyed roasted beets, and she has tried beet greens, Swiss chard, and kale chips. She's plucked green beans from the vines climbing our neighbor's chain-link fence and then munched on them while crouching between the basil and oregano, and she even tried a cherry tomato, which she spit out pretty fast, but I was so happy that we seemed to be getting somewhere that I congratulated her as though she had devoured a whole quart.

Recently, Todd and I made a salad with roasted golden beets and ate it with grilled cheeseburgers. I pretty much always slice up an onion to caramelize as soon as the idea for burgers hits me, so that night they were dripping with sweet onions and ketchup and CSA lettuce. We all had CSA corn on the cob, and Marley and Rudy had these little burgers on their plates, basically sliders that Todd made to order, and they were eating them. This was the best part, because even though they didn't finish them, and although Marley had a few bites of salad but still stuck to what I refer to as the Gateway Vegetable (cucumbers), we were all eating the same meal.

It was just a sweet little glimpse into what I hope is our future of enjoying tasty, healthy meals together. No one whining about what's gross or what they don't like, and no real pleading for the girls to take more bites. Just hanging out and having deliciousness.

I should probably add that this joyful, relaxed meal was no doubt influenced by an earlier, impromptu cocktail hour, when I harvested some spearmint from my garden, smashed it up with some simple syrup and limes, and shook every up with a scoopful of ice and a healthy glug of rum. That's right: mojitos.