The juice oozed down my chin, just as it should.
The flavor was delicious, just as it should be.
It was a go-to-hell-wonderful experience more compelling than the solstice.
The other day, my son bought some farm-stand tomatoes and this morning I had one on a tortilla with a little mayonnaise.
A real tomato, not the supermarket pretense with its long shelf-life and no flavor ... the money-maker.
I guess everyone has his or her luxuries, his or her touchstones, his or her swoon.
This was mine.