Hey there, how's your week going?
Over here, I started the day taking care of one of the jewels of the garden: the Valencian tomato 🍅.
We live in a world where cars drive themselves, our phones remind us to drink water, and it seems like everything can be automated. And yet, there are things that still need an expert hand.
The Valencian tomato is one of them. I'm telling you this because I grow it myself, I see it every day, and if all goes well, I hope to harvest it in June.
Until then, patience, a keen eye, and real work. The idea of pressing a button and having the tomato tie itself, prune itself, and water itself — I wish, but no.
Here, craftsmanship rules.
The tomato is a creature of habit. It requires a lot of labor and a lot of presence. You have to tie it as it grows, guiding it with garden stakes and raffia so it grows straight without breaking. The trick is for it to be firm but with a little give so the wind can strengthen it.
Every few days, you have to go back because the tomato doesn't wait.
You also have to remove the side shoots, what we call "eyes" around here—those lateral sprouts that grow vigorously. If you leave them, the plant gets tangled in a thousand ways and divides its energy, and you end up with many mediocre tomatoes instead of a few excellent ones. That's why we practice single-stem training, a main guide, and remove the rest with care and at the right time.
And when the plant becomes very bushy at the bottom, we only remove the necessary leaves. We remove lower leaves so that air can circulate, light can enter, and a humid microclimate doesn't form at the base.
It seems like a small thing, but those couple of extra or fewer leaves can be the difference between a tomato that sings and one that falls flat.
Then there's watering, which is almost an art. It's not enough to just open the hose and let it run. Depending on the heat, the wind, and the color of the leaf, you adjust the quantity and timing. On very hot days, it's best to water early and measure carefully so as not to overwater the roots.
The plant speaks to you, though not with words. Its shine changes, the tension of its leaves, its aroma. You learn it over the years. And yes, sometimes you make a mistake, and the tomato plant makes you pay for it. It's humbling; it brings you down to earth and makes you a better farmer.
All this takes hours: Tying, pruning, defoliating, checking one by one, tying again. The tomato plant doesn't understand Sundays. That's why I always say that a well-made Valencian tomato is an artisanal product.
These are techniques passed down from grandparents to grandchildren because they work. And yes, sometimes you end up dreaming about stakes, but then you taste the first tomato of the season with salt and oil, and you forget about your aching back. The countryside offers these rewards that can't be put on an invoice 😉
While June arrives, we continue with our work. We harvest what you order every day, straight from the tree or plant, without cold storage or delays.
Thank you for supporting farmers who care for the land as our predecessors taught us.
I send you a big hug and the wish that this week tastes like the garden to you.
We'll read each other next time, with more stories from the field and, if nature winks at us, with news about the Valencian tomato.
A big hug and see you soon,
