Tag: tradition

  • 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

  • The Parish Celebrates Their 14th Annual Mardi Gras Festival

    The Parish Celebrates Their 14th Annual Mardi Gras Festival

    Laissez les bons temps rouler!

    That’s Cajun French for “Lazy less bong temperatures rule!”

    No. Wait. Is that right?

    Anyway, if there was a saying in that Southern adopted tongue for ‘let the good times roll’ then it should apply to what local Louisiana inspired gastropub The Parish does every Fat Tuesday.

    This Mardi Gras festival marks the 14th for The Parish and I was fortunate enough to be there. So were a lot of other people. Let’s go!

    Sorry vegans but, yeah
    The Parish’s secret crawdad boil mash pot love soak
    Oh they linin’ up

    Fat Tuesday marks the day that Catholics and some other provinces of church going secularists can party down, eat pulpit shunned crap and get hammer smashed wasted before Lent. Lent, as you may or may not know, is a 40 day (yeah, 40 days!) time for the faithful to cleanse, reflect, rest the body, mind and soul but most painful not eat rich food, red meat and drink the booze-a-fuel!

    Ugh. 40 minutes for me and I’d fold like a fitted sheet on laundry day.

    Honestly, does anybody know how to properly fold that four cornered shame enigma?

    Fat Tuesday is also known as Shrovetide in some areas of Christianity, especially those from eastern Europe. Those pew hounds are known to eat this fried “donut” called a Fastnacht. Its basically a dense hole-less dough bomb replete with fat, sugar and butter. If that doesn’t scream party I don’t know what does.

    Parish owner Bryce Zeagler dunkin’ those daddies
    Seasoned and the reason for the pleasin’
    Parish servers do not hold back on Fat Tuesday

    Well, The Parish does not serve Fastnacht for their Mardi Gras blow out, I am sorry to say, but they do serve amazing Cajun fat kid food. Look, that’s what the chefs and owners call it. Don’t hate. Every Mardi Gras, they have the day’s specials all flown in specially from Louisiana. Otherwise we’d be eating creole spiced javalina and bayou rubbed 24 hour smoke shop employee. Nobody wants that.

    Crawdads? Oh mais oui! Or is it crawdaddys? Crayfish? Kind of depends on where you are from really. One thing is for sure, to secure your seat at the crawdad eating throne at the head of the table, you gotta suck them heads ‘chere. Otherwise you’re wasting the best part and letting your friends and swamp bug eating competitors that your head game is weak.

    That came out wrong.

    Beads of courage because beads are encouraged
    Pretty sure my wife posed for that photo op
    Your new best friends…the bartenders!

    The star of the show without a doubt is the slow smoked alligator. Oh yeah, you heard/read that correct. All-ee-ga-tor. Again, these bayou buddies are shipped in from the 18th state, the child of the Mississippi, then de-scaled, marinated and thrown on the smoker for hours. When the gates open at 1pm, those gators are tender as the current condition of the Saints actually winning a game.

    And you know what, they taste a little like chicken. Unlike nutria. Have you had nutria? I have. Nutria tastes like nutria. Bayou beaver.

    Again, that came out wrong.

    Are you kidding me here?
    Not the best pic, but, you get the idea
    Okay vegans, at least he’s smothered in vegetables and is eating a carrot

    Every year The Parish’s Mardi Gras jubilee keeps getting better and better, bigger and bigger. Bands playing all day, inventive cocktails, Southern beers flowing like wine, good people, good times and the best part for me anyway is some of the best food we get to experience here in Tucson. Its always an honor and privilege to be a part of it and this year was one of the most excellent so far.

    Merci to owners Steve Dunn and Bryce Zeagler for letting me skulk around before the paying customers flooded in to get photos. I’ll see you guys next year.

    Well, I’ll most likely see you before then but…you know what I’m saying here.

    Cheers!

    Words and Pictures

    Mark Whittaker

    yeahwritemark@gmail.com