For all my talk of perfect homegrown tomatoes you'd think I'd be able to spot an impostor. Well, it turns out I cannot. While at YDFM today I picked up a few seemingly ripe tomatoes, grown in the bordering state of North Carolina. My plan was to make Oliver the gazpacho he'd missed out on last week. You can imagine my disappointment when I cut into them and discovered this:

These tomatoes are my definition of CRAP TOMATOES! Ick. I threw them in the trash. If I'm going to go through all the trouble of making gazpacho then I'm going to use the best tomatoes possible.

The end.