Tag: memories

  • Our Triumphant Return to Sweet Tomatoes

    Our Triumphant Return to Sweet Tomatoes

    Very little, if nothing, has changed

    “Oh my god. It smells exactly the same.”

    “It looks exactly the same.”

    “Oh my god.”

    Yep, there they are
    Oh, this is a new thingy

    Okay, the title suggests that it was a triumph to go back to Sweet Tomatoes, seeing as its been closed for almost 5 years. In fact, its been about 6 years for us last time we stepped foot in one.

    When the Sweet Tomatoes on Broadway here in Tucson reopened in April of 2024, even waiting a week or two, and like on a Tuesday around 2pm, the place had a line of people extending into the parking lot. So we waited. Waited some more. Then we kind of forgot about it. Dealing with crowds in that capacity, all ready to scoop lettuce on a plate, queuing to plop mac and cheese in a bowl or maneuvering around throngs of unattended children screaming that there aren’t any sprinkles left to squeeze out some ice cream doesn’t sound like a pleasant afternoon to us.

    Waiting became legend, legend became myth…

    Until one day, quite recently actually, the wife asked if I was up for Sweet Tomatoes. If there wasn’t a mass horde of all-you-can-eaters then, sure. Why not?

    Feels, and tastes, like old times
    Choose your yellow hued fighter

    Luckily the heat from the relaunch had cooled down as there was very little people in attendance. Which was great. For us. We’re not the “more the merrier” kind of couple. We enjoy empty theaters and restaurants at off hours. Call us crazy for liking leisure when we partake in leisurely activities.

    Now here is where the word “triumphant” comes into play. Turns out that this Sweet Tomatoes, the one here in Tucson, on Broadway, is the only Sweet Tomatoes in operation! Anywhere. None in Wisconsin, none in Alaska, none in Fiji and none in Siberia. Tucson baby. We gots the Sweets!

    Thing is, and this is just my opinion so I apologize to the ST faithful, Sweet Tomatoes is okay at best. The greens are always crisp but taste like they’ve been sitting in a bag for a while. The dressings are…fine. The toppings are expected. The pasta bar is decent but you have to season it up with pepper flakes and such to ease out some flavor. Same goes for the mini pizzas.

    It’s all just…fine.

    Like a good school lunch pizza should
    Film at 11!

    Here’s the thing with the wife and I, as I’m sure goes with a lot of Sweet Tomatoes attendees: It’s a memory poke at the lobe that reminds us of lazy afternoons sitting there, reading books, or playing games, surrounded by essential comfort food if and when we want it. We paid our ticket, so we gonna ride this out for a while.

    Unless its busy. Then we’ll eat and go. Sorry. No we’re leaving. You can totally sit here. Cheers.

    That memory jab came at an almost instant once we were through the doors. Other than some new signage and a bit of AI influenced advertising, it looked, smelled and felt exactly the same before closing their doors in the pandemic.

    The old routine returned as well. Get a tray, grab two plates (one for green salad the other to pile on whatever salads they may have on special) and make the stretch down option alley.

    Luckily on this trip they had the tuna tarragon salad which was always a curious favorite of mine. That recipe has not changed mercifully.

    The only disappointment that day, for the wife anyway, was the lack of brothy soup. Usually Sweet Tomatoes is equipped with a chicken noodle or something where she could just ladle in for the broth, her main reason for showing up in the first place. But, alas, no brothy soup. Just the creamy or chili variety. Oh well.

    As we sat there watching the lunch crowd grow in numbers, that feeling of odd nostalgia set in. It wasn’t that kind of decades gone familiarity then whooshed into verisimilitude like an old arcade, video rental stand or toy store. It was more of a “Yeah. Here it is. Here we are. Not much has changed. Okay. Ready to go?”

    A lot, if not most, of my chef-y friends absolutely despise buffets. “Anything employing a sneeze guard,” one chimed in, “and you know you’re in the middle of a filth storm.”

    The years that we have been going to Sweet Tomatoes, there has never been an issue. We used to attend the one that still stands empty and sun bleached dead by the Tucson Mall on Wetmore and all of the employees looked happy to be there. We even had our favorite server, a lady in her maybe 30s, Latina, who always boasted the biggest smile when she saw us. To this day we always wondered what happened to her. Mainly because my wife, who is the GM of a popular and long standing restaurant, wanted to hire her when the restaurant reopened in late 2020.

    It was always clean, well-stocked, and rarely overcrowded. It was maybe a once a month thing for us. Hey, its our day off, can’t decide on what we want for lunch, we’re hungry, hey!, how about Sweet Tomatoes? Sure!

    Going to the one (and only!) on Broadway is a bit out of the way for us so I’m not too sure if we’ve even been to that one. Maybe a while ago but with age that trigger has loosened and my aim is getting less true. Still, it was nice to be back, even though we left our books at home and had to rely on people watching and engage in conversation. Ugh!

    At least we didn’t leave hungry
    Our tradition before we head out

    Will we go back to Sweet Tomatoes? Probably. In fact, no, we definitely are. Anytime soon? Doubt it. But its good to know that it’s there and that Tucson has the sole key to the Sweet Tomatoes franchise. When we are on that side of town and getting the belly grumbles while failing to come to an agreeing cuisine conclusion, we can just pop in, grab a tray and get down with an old friend.

    Hopefully we’ll have our books with us that time.

    Cheers!

    Words and Pictures

    Mark Whittaker

    yeahwritemark@gmail.com

  • Why I hate Valentine’s Day

    Why I hate Valentine’s Day

    Ok, hate is a strong word but…not a fan.

    Ugh. Can we not?

    As a big holiday guy, I am super nuts over Halloween and Christmas. Most holidays really. But Valentine’s Day, aesthetically and generally, in my opinion, sucks nards.

    Most people say, at least those that oppose the time when big wet eyed pink bears donning plush hearts on their chests that say garbage like “I Wub Woo” start hitting the shelves of your local market and whatever CVS and Walgreens is, that Valentine’s Day is a made up holiday. Its not actually.

    In 8th century Europe, a day to celebrate St. Valentine, February 14th, began as a feast to honor his, I don’t know, martyrdom or something. I think he healed like the daughter of his jailor, who was blind, and made her see again. Yeah Valentine was imprisoned for ministering persecuted Christians in 3rd century Rome. Look it up. That’s what I had to do.

    The reason for the season, kinda

    Apparently, according to Wiki, there were a bunch of Valentines, the St. Valentine’s, and through the years it looked like the faithful thought it would be cool to mark a day for his, or their, contribution to the church and such.

    Through the annals of time, like an old ass game of telephone, before there were telephones, obviously, so that’d be a game of carrier pigeons or something?, Valentine’s Day, for whatever reason, became associated with love. Probably because it was more fun to paint chubby cupids and Victorian fops and wenches in what looks like the most uncomfortable dresses swooning over one another than some bearded cruster holding a staff looking bored.

    Post war America became a hot den of breeding and consumerism and thus the day of celebrating St. Valentine soon crumbled into a pink dusted product queef and sales soared. Men were soon to feel quilt and angst if they didn’t get their lady a dozen roses, a heart shaped box of chocolates filled with whatever goo they had in the 50s and a big card decorated with oversized headed kids on a boat with the words “Hey sailor! You’re tuggin’ at my heart.” That crap still exists today. Only they have like Cardi B on it or whatever. I don’t know. I tend to avoid the “seasonal” aisle after New Years to about February 15.

    Really?

    Then it just continued to get moist and cheesy. Like I said, I love Halloween and Christmas like you wouldn’t believe. Dude, I have the Charlie Brown Christmas tree tattooed on my left leg! Easter is pretty cool, mainly because it is sooo steeped in Paganism, even more so than Christmas (look it up), and I’ve come to tolerate St. Patrick’s Day ever since I moved from San Francisco. The day after Patty’s Day, that city was reek with broken bottles, vomit, trash, bodies and sirens. Tucson is pretty chill. Mainly because I think we have like one or maybe two Irish themed bars here. And they are miles from where we live.

    Cut to Glendale, California circa 1980. Yours truly was in the 4th grade and the week leading up to Valentine’s Day our assignment was to make mailboxes that we would hang on the edge of our desks so when the big day of Feb 14 rolled into town we would walk around the classroom and fill those boxes with cards or whatever. My best friend at the time, Monte (can’t think of his last name but it must have been Torres or Vasquez because we sat next to each other, in the back, like all good misfit class clowns should) were not the most popular kids in the room. Or playground. Or anywhere. We likened ourselves to reading Mad Magazine, watching Loony Tunes cartoons and cracking each other up, first during quiet study then in detention. One time there was an in class talent show, where most kids lip synced to disco songs or played the recorder. Monte and I decided to do a puppet version of Pinnochio where we made ridiculous paper bag puppets with the lead having a toothpick for a nose. Come time to perform, we were laughing so hard that kids started to boo and our teacher came and broke us up. Like I said, not the most popular.

    Yup. Its what I most likely brought to class.

    So Valentine’s Day arrives and I show up with a box of most likely Star Wars themed cards that were perforated and came in packs of twelve so my dad had to buy two boxes. There were some left over and I just put the coolest ones on my bedroom wall. I love you too Chewbacca.

    After lunch we all got our cards filled in with From: me To: whoever and started meandering about, filling those handmade mailboxes with Valentine themed rectangles. Dutifully, I gave one to every kid, even though I was nervous about giving one to Brooke Hill, who I had a huge crush on. Yes I still remember her name. And no, I can’t find her on social media. Probably got hitched and changed her name. I don’t know. Don’t act like you haven’t done the same! Sheesh. Judge much?

    When all the cards were distributed, we went back to our desks and opened our mailboxes to get the gobs of Valentine’s goodies.

    Best image I could find of those mailboxes we had to make.

    Most of the kids dumped theirs on their desks. Little sierras of cards, toys and candy heaped on their desks as they pealed with giddy thanks and laughter. Oh boy, I thought, this is going to be cool.

    Monte and I grabbed our mailboxes that were taped with care as to hold the maximum amount of store bought fondness, opened the top, turned them upside down and shook.

    I think the word ‘smattering’ could best describe what we got. ‘Scant’ maybe. More like, are you kidding? A few of those perforated edged cards stared back at us. Happy Days here, Garfield there. At one point as I held the mailbox for a few seconds longer, hoping that it was so packed with forced affection that they were stuck before avalanching on my desk, one torn square featuring the Justice League and the words “You’re Super!” on it plopped out like a comically timed bird poop on your new white shoes. All I could do was stare down at the, well, pile is a disservice to the collection of shame in front of me and go “Huh” as I scanned the room looking at the happy faces and the occasional hug because they all made out like Valentine’s bandits.

    Pretty sure Monte uttered “The fxxk?” as he had the same amount of heart card diss to deal with.

    My feelings exactly Monte.

    That night over dinner my dad asked to see the cards I got. I showed him. Pretty sure he said “The fxxk?” My feelings exactly dad.

    Ever since then Valentine’s Day has left a bad taste in my mouth, sort of like those little antacid heart candies that proclaim Hug Me and Be Mine. Nobody likes those, right? Black jellybeans and candy corn are always up for debate but those chalky dingleturds are just plain awful.

    4th grade me not too stoked about Valentine’s Day.

    Anyway, that’s pretty much it. That’s why I am not fond of Valentine’s Day. Sure the look and feel of the “holiday” is totally lame, like what the old man calls Ralphie in “A Christmas Story” when he’s dolled up in that bunny suit, a pink nightmare, but that one day in 4th grade really cemented a deeper disdain for the annual event. Sure I’ve been in plenty of loving relationships and am happily married to my best friend, but even then I always have to go “You’re not into the whole Valentine’s thing are you?” Because…bleh.

    But I do like going into stores on the 15th to snag up some on sale candy as they make room for St. Patrick’s and Easter. Even if the store manager handed me a box of afore mentioned love day Tums and said “Here, just take ‘em” I’d be all “The fxxk?” and just walk away.

    • Mark Whittaker

    yeahwritemark@gmail.com

    520-861-4198