My mother never fried or served green tomatoes in the McKay Street dining room when I grew up there. All tomatoes that entered the kitchen were red, ripe, and sliced for meals or peeled and canned in the basement then stored on cellar shelves for winter stewing.
I learned the delicacy of those fried green tomatoes from my mother-in-law, Edith Furgason who took pride in her flour and egg recipe for dipping before an iron skillet browning to perfection.
Growing tomatoes comes with the DNA of my family’s history so I was proud to dig holes and place tomato plants in every yard outside every home I ever inhabited.