French beans and radishes

French beans and radishes Young Peter Rabbit dined on lettuces, French beans and radishes, but I’ve always preferred tomatoes. I used to slip the saltshaker into my pocket and hide out between the rows of twisted tomato vines in our family garden. Sitting in the dirt, I lazily slurped down the sun-warmed fruits one after the other. Sometimes one of my siblings would join me. We really thought we were getting away with something wonderful, though I’m sure my parents were well aware of what was going on and most likely approved of garden snacks over cookies and candy.

If I am typical, then gardeners notice when piracy occurs in their plots and patches. You might disapprove of kid pillagers. I understand. My sons grazed their way around our yard from the time they could walk. I’ll freely admit to my extreme disappointment when every crimson berry glinting on the raspberry canes disappeared before making its way up to the kitchen.

In reality, I enjoy thinking of their outdoor culinary capers in light of my own. And I hope, like me, their forays leave them with clear and cherished memories of how really great fresh food can be — hooked or harvested.