During the long New England winter I dream about these tomatoes. I lie in bed during the seemingly endless cold nights, in flannel pajamas under three layers of heavy blankets, and fantasize about bare legs, short sleeves and a griddle full of these sizzling away on the stove. In the summertime fantasies turn to reality, and if there isn't a huge batch of these sizzling away on the stove at least once a week, withdrawal symptoms begin to set in.

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