Garden Detective

I don't think they grow their own, but the Baldinos of Oyster Bay have it going on:

Harold Politano of Deer Park, whose Burpee Supersteak weighed in at 2 lbs., 9 oz. -- the 3rd largest entry -- at last week's Great Long Island Tomato Challenge, sent me an email yesterday:

Hi Jessica, just want you to know me and my daughter had a great time at the tomato challenge. your knowledge has given me some good tips,,,and we really loved the gifts we got there. sure hope you have a 09 tomato challenge. heres a pic of me by one of my sunflowers,,,. thanks so much,,,,Harold Politano

Nice...

>> Photos from the event

More than 30 readers joined me in the Newsday auditorium Friday evening for the 2nd annual Garden Detective Great Long Island Tomato Challenge. Most of those with tomatoes arrived with their entries concealed in foil-covered plates or paper or plastic bags, presumably to psyche out the competition.

And what a fun competition it was. We shared tomato-growing tips, advice, laughs and even some tomatoes.

Returnees from last year included Ed Mitchell of Ronkonkoma, whose 1 lb., 1 oz. Beefsteak was a tad smaller than his 1 lb., 5 oz. entry last year. He also came with a plastic bag full of sweet grape tomatoes, which he shared generously. Janet Hart of Lindenhurst bettered her own score with a 1 pound Big Boy, up from a 14 ounces last year. And Patrick Castle of Deer Park, who made a nice showing in 2007 with a 2 lb., 7 oz. Porterhouse Beefsteak, entered a smaller, but still impressive, 1 lb., 12 oz. tomato of the same variety. Billy King of Mastic Beach, who ordinarily concentrates his green thumb efforts on growing giant pumpkins (and by "giant," I mean 800 pounds giant!) tried his hand at tomatoes for the first time this year. He arrived with his wife, Krista, toddler son, Billy, and a Big Zac weighing 2 lb., 3 oz.

Paul Nardone, who grows more than 250 tomato plants in his Massapequa garden each year but has yet to enter our contest, came simply to say hello and hang out with us. Oh, and he brought 2 giant bags of tomatoes to share. (I made a big pot of sauce with them and ladled it over fusilli on Sunday. Thanks!)

Barry Kaplan of Farmingdale, whose Big Zac weighed in at 1 lb., 7 oz., not only gifted me with his entry, he and his wife Anne also brought a teeny, tiny, tomato in a test tube, inspiring me to consider a smallest-tomato prize for next year's event.

Then there was Pat Mazzeo of St. James, whose Bull's Heart tomato weighed in at 2 lbs., 11 1/2 oz., Jack Schmitt of Sayville, who came to the podium with a 14.5 oz. beefsteak, Gary Schaffer of Lindenhurst, whose entry weighed 2 lb., 6 oz., and Harold Politano and his daughter Kim, of Deer Park, whose Burpee Supersteaks weighed 2 lbs., 9 oz., and 2 lbs., 1 oz., respectively.

But it was John Salvador from Port Jefferson Station who got the most attention. A 2-year veteran of the Tomato Challenge, Salvador's Bull's Heart tomato tipped the scales at 3 lbs., 1 oz., the only entry to cross the 3-pound mark this year. Last year, he came in second place with a 2 lb., 2 oz. fruit.

Salvador, who has 50 tomato plants growing on his 90 x 100 lot, also grows plenty of grapes, string beans, shell beans, lettuce, herbs, peppers and cucumbers -- more than enough to share with his neighbors.

When asked about his growing techniques, the 69-year-old retired construction worker said Bull's Heart tomatoes are hard to grow. "You have to take good care of them," he said. "I talk to them. I visit them in the morning to see if they need anything and then later in the afternoon I visit them again." But, aside from applying manure from a friend's horse, he doesn't have any growing secrets."Some years are just better than others," he maintains.

The seeds, like Salvador, originated in Portugal. He moved to the United States 44 years ago; the seeds traveled with a friend nearly 20 years ago, and Salvador has been growing tomatoes and saving seeds ever since. "They must be citizens by now," he quips.

There was a mouse in my house last week, I was sure of it.

What tipped me off? A paper-wrapped tin of cookies in a cabinet in the laundry room was mysteriously becoming unwrapped. All by itself. Little by little, every day more paper torn off.

And then there were the telltale droppings, reminiscent of caraway seeds. Rye bread is forever ruined for me. I needed to get him out.

I hesitated when it became apparent I should buy a trap. He was a mouse, and probably very cute. I have a soft spot for cute furry things, but I tired of Cloroxing the cabinet every day, and frankly, the task was pretty gross. Plus, mice are rodents, and rodents carry disease.

We had some glue traps in the basement, left over from last year's cricket crisis, but I'd heard horror stories. Stories about mice chewing their own legs off to break free from those sticky sheets. No. It would have to be quick and relatively merciful. So I purchased two old-fashioned snap traps and baited them with yellow American cheese. Snapped my own finger in the process.

The next morning, I ran downstairs and braced myself as I inched open the cabinet. No mouse. No cheese. No cheese? He had managed to grab the cheese out of two traps without getting caught. Hmmm.

After giving it some thought, I figured the cheese was too easy to snatch. That night, I tried cream cheese and peanut butter, smearing each into its own trap so that the lifting wouldn't be possible. He'd have to linger, and that would ensure his demise. I headed upstairs, but first I got out the Clorox and the paper towels and cleaned up the mess he'd left behind.

The next morning, I approached the cabinet, filled half with dread and half with anticipation. Slowly, I opened the cabinet. No mouse. No cream cheese. No peanut butter.

I'm not kidding. That rodent had managed to lick clean two traps without setting them off. He was diabolical. And brilliant.

After Cloroxing the cabinet, I reached for the glue traps. I felt bad. I hoped he wouldn't suffer. But there was a mouse in my house and he was leaving his diseased rodent droppings in my food cabinet. And probably laughing at me. I was beginning to feel like Elmer Fudd, and for the first time in my life, I understood him.

Reluctantly, I peeled the backing off the super stickly traps and laid two in the cabinet, right next to the tin of cookies. He'd have to walk on the traps if he wanted to do any more unwrapping.

In the morning, I opened the cabinet and there was no mouse. But there was plenty of mouse fur stuck to the glue trap. And quite a few droppings scattered about. He'd gotten stuck and he'd freed himself. This was an impressive mouse!

Certain that the traps used earlier had been defective, I threw them away and purchased two more, baiting them the same way -- with peanut butter and cream cheese -- for the next two nights. Licked clean both times.

Then Saturday night, my daughter Julia and her friend baked some browines after dinner. I set the hot pan on top of the stove to cool. John, who had been in the basement, came upstairs and whispered to me that we'd have to throw away the brownies. He said that when he came up the stairs, which lead into the kitchen, the mouse was standing in the pan, nibbling on the cooling brownies. It ran behind the stove when it saw him.

That's probably the most disgusting thing I'd ever heard. I still don't know how he made it upstairs and on top of the range. I Cloroxed the stove and threw out the entire batch of brownies, except for two pea-sized crumbs, which I placed in each of the traps in the basement cabinet.

The brownies did him in within an hour. And, yes, he was cute.