The Story of Mr. Stripey... with a Spicy Ending

Our high desert climate is uniquely great... cool and dry in the winter and absolutely glorious in the summer. Summer temperatures are moderate by Arizona standards, and daily rains keep our little oasis green and blooming all summer long. At night we snooze with the windows open and comforters up; by day, intense sun is moderated by the storms that race across the desert, showing off huge cotton ball thunderheads, booming with thunder and lightning.

Because of this upside-down climatic state, we got away with not planting tomatoes until mid-June this year. The last thing I did during my shopping frenzy at the nursery was to pick up little tomato seedling with the whimsical tag "Mr. Stripey" - who could resist? And as the other tomato plants burst forth with a flurry of yellow blossoms and verdant leafiness throughout June and July, Mr. Stripey was stubborn - he would bloom and then give up, bloom and then give up. We even googled Mr. Stripey and got some disappointing news - "very little fruit - not much flavor" said the reviews from other disgruntled gardeners. So we didn't pay much attention when one blossom finally turned into a tiny green Mr. Stripey - "very little fruit, not much flavor" we'd say, with a fatalistic shake of our heads.

Then one day we noticed that he was growing, got a little bigger, and then grew, and grew, and grew, and GREW into the giant orange and green striped Godzilla of all heirloom tomatoes. Even more astonishing, several other potential Mr. Stripeys have popped out, while the more normal fruit on the other vines has ripened and been gobbled up in pasta sauce, sandwiches, salads. Wouldn't you know it - Mr. Stripey turned out to be the King Tomato of the lot - now we say things like "I remember him when he was just a little guy..." Just goes to show you - sometimes you need to pay some extra attention to the quiet ones, and don't believe everything you google... they just might turn out to be big winners! I'd show you a pic of Mr. Stripey but he was sliced up last night and served with just a dash of aged balsamic. Delicious.

Now for the spicy part: Dick and I both created entries for the Salsa Competition last Saturday at the Farmer's Market. We tested our creations on Jim and Sara, who suggested some astute flavor enhancements. We perfected the recipes and made up the final batches for the Big Day. Mine - Crazy Cathy's Wild & Wacky Watermelon Salsa - was a refreshing and unusual mix - very tasty, but I didn't expect to win with a "non-traditional" entry - not in this very Mexican town! But Dick's recipe - Screamin' Dick's Hellfire Roasted Tomato Salsa - was as good as it gets. Tomatoes and chiles, roasted on the grill, lots of garlic and onion, with just enough lime to make your taste buds tingle... in my book, it was salsa perfection.

We were on the tennis courts on Farmer's Market day when the smell of fresh chiles being roasted at the market wafted across the courts. We could see people walking, zombie-like, toward that intoxicating smell - as if we were in Guyana and Jim had just mixed up a new batch of Kool-Aid. We finished our set and ran home to grab our entries and take them to the market... then we whiled away time chatting with friends and political candidates doing their last bit of glad-handing before Tuesday's election, all the while looking nervously toward the salsa booth, where the judges were tasting salsas with grim and critical expressions, clipboards in hand. Dick was so anxious that he stood behind the judges, trying to hear what they were saying. A photo of this showed up (embarrassingly) in the Monday paper. "Who's that guy in the baseball cap and Cuba tee-shirt, looking over the judge's shoulders in that photo on the front page?" "Um... never saw him before in my life..."

Long story short - the winner was a standard salsa that could have come off the shelves at Safeway - not that we're bitter. When you fall off the horse, you have to climb right back on - so we're working on our recipes for the Chili Competition.

Back to the Future in BZB

Our friends in the San Francisco Bay area and South Florida are probably thinking that Dick and Cathy have finally lost it... living in a tiny, funky little town on the Mexican border on a barely paved street... what could anyone possibly do there? This weekend was a rousing example of how to make your own fun - and it was a rip-snorter! (God - we've only been here a month and I sound like Gabby Hayes... oy.)

On Saturday morning, we walked over to the Farmer's Market - past the charming houses on the Vista, which is our main drag in this area of Bisbee, called Warren. Houses were built for the executives of the Phelps Dodge copper mine that once thrived here, and all originated from the first 20 years of the 20th century - they're all bungalows of varying sizes and styles. It was Fiber Weekend at the Farmer's Market - and no, this isn't about eating your bran - it was about how to make things from yarn, starting with shearing an animal and moving on from there. We saw angora rabbits, alpacas, and even a live sheep shearing exhibition - fun for us, less so for the sheep - and then we watched local ladies spin the yarn and knit it into totally cool stuff. Other highlights of the market are the tamale guy, who summers in Palo Alto and makes tamales that would be the pride of any Mexican abuela... and the produce farmers who come here on Saturdays from Patagonia, a short drive away, and bring corn, tomatos, lettuces and herbs that are definitely ready for prime time, though it's only May.

But the BIG moment of the weekend came on Saturday night at "Bisbee Idol" - a fundraiser for the local homeless shelter that's modeled after "American Idol". The locals came out in droves to perform and to vote for their faves. The winner of the best Male Performer was a tubby, grey-haired guy who called himself "Fish Rap" - performing an original rap number that left the audience rolling in the aisles. Best Female performer was not a surprise, as she's a standout from local musicals and dramas who sang "Don't Rain on My Parade" - if you closed your eyes, you'd swear it was Barbra herself on the stage. And our favorite was the female cross-dresser who sang "New York New York" dressed as Frank Sinatra, but voting was unfortunately hindered by the fact that no one knew whether to vote for her/him as Best Female or Male... bummer. My heart went out to Bobo, an adorable pixie-like 60-something woman who sang "Memories" from the musical Cats... the emcee said (sotto voce), "please vote for Bobo because her cat just died..." and people hooted from the audience at 90-year-old judge Millicent, who was a bit fermischt from time to time... people were yelling "Turn your mike up, Millie, we can't hear a thing you're saying!"

So real, so small town, so funny - it makes me believe in humanity again, at least for a night...