The tomatoes turned red. On Thursday. I walked onto the patio with my morning coffee and there they were: two red tomatoes on the vine, warm and bright against the brown desert backdrop.
I picked one. I held it. It was warm from the California sun and red as a heart and I was back in Norfolk, back at Dad's garden, back to being eighteen years old watching my father tend tomatoes with military precision.
I called Dad. 7 AM Pacific, 10 AM Eastern. He answered on the second ring.
'Dad. The tomatoes are red.'
Silence. The Kevin Abernathy emotional silence. The one that means everything.
'How many?' he asked, his voice thick.
'Two. Two red ones. More coming.'
'You grew tomatoes in the Mojave Desert, Rachel. In containers. In 110-degree heat.'
'I know, Dad.'
'Your grandfather would be — he'd be —' He stopped. Started again. 'I'm proud of you.'
Not 'the tomatoes look good.' Not 'nice job.' I'M PROUD OF YOU. Kevin Abernathy, about tomatoes, which are also about everything — about growing things in hard places, about patience, about the lineage of Abernathy gardeners who tend the earth because the earth is the one thing that responds to care without complication.
I made a tomato sandwich. White bread, Duke's mayo, salt, pepper. The simplest thing. The Dad thing. I ate it standing at the kitchen counter and the tomato was perfect — sweet, acidic, warm, the taste of June in Norfolk transported to a desert through seeds my father saved and sent across the country.
Caleb got a slice. He held it, examined it with his forty-seven expressions (he inherited these from me; they're genetic), and put it in his mouth. He chewed. He smiled. He said, 'YUM.'
Three generations. One tomato. Norfolk to Twentynine Palms.
I wrote a blog post: 'My Father Grows Tomatoes (and So Do I).' About Dad. About the garden. About the seeds that traveled. About the tomato sandwich that tastes like home regardless of where home is.
Fifteen thousand views. The most-read non-pandemic post in months. People commenting about their own fathers, their own gardens, their own tomato sandwiches.
The tomato. The simplest story. The truest one.
I saved the seeds. For the next base. For the next garden. For the next desert or coast or wherever the Marines send us.
The seeds travel. The tomato travels. The family travels.
Always growing. Even in the desert.
The tomato sandwich was for me — standing at the counter, barefoot, crying a little, honoring that first red tomato the way Dad would have. But dinner needed to happen, and I had more tomatoes coming in, and I wanted Caleb to taste what I was tasting in a way he could really sit down with. This rustic summer vegetable pasta is exactly what I made with the second wave: fresh tomatoes from the vine, good olive oil, garlic, whatever was in the garden and the pantry — the kind of recipe that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is, which is the whole point. Dad’s tomatoes deserve a meal that lets them speak.
Rustic Summer Vegetable Pasta
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 12 oz penne or rigatoni pasta
- 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 medium zucchini, diced
- 1 medium yellow squash, diced
- 1 cup cherry tomatoes or 2 medium garden tomatoes, chopped
- 1/2 cup roasted red bell pepper, sliced
- 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for pasta water
- 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 cup fresh basil leaves, torn
- 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
- 1/2 cup reserved pasta cooking water
Instructions
- Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Before draining, reserve 1/2 cup of the starchy cooking water. Drain and set aside.
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring frequently, for about 1 minute until fragrant but not browned.
- Cook the vegetables. Add zucchini and yellow squash to the skillet. Season with salt and black pepper. Cook for 5–6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the squash is tender and beginning to brown at the edges.
- Add the tomatoes. Stir in the fresh tomatoes and roasted red pepper. Cook for 3–4 minutes until the tomatoes begin to break down and release their juices, forming a light sauce at the bottom of the pan.
- Combine with pasta. Add the drained pasta to the skillet along with the reserved pasta water, starting with 1/4 cup. Toss everything together over medium heat for 1–2 minutes until the sauce coats the pasta. Add more pasta water as needed to loosen.
- Finish and serve. Remove from heat. Drizzle with the remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil and toss in the fresh basil and Parmesan. Taste and adjust seasoning. Serve immediately with extra Parmesan on the side.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 14g | Fat: 13g | Carbs: 62g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 380mg
About the cook who shared this
Rachel Abernathy
Week 271 of Rachel’s 30-year story
· San Diego, California
Rachel is a twenty-eight-year-old Marine wife and mom of two who has moved five times in six years and learned to cook a Thanksgiving dinner with half her cookware still in boxes. She married young, survived postpartum depression, and feeds her family of four on a junior Marine's salary with a freezer full of pre-made meals and a crockpot that has never let her down. She writes for the military spouses who are cooking dinner alone in base housing and wondering if they're enough. You are.