The cicada situation is out of control. Oh, good morning, Hank. It's Tuesday, so when we last visited the garden, it was mostly dirt. But now there are zucchini and sunflowers and these weird dragon-tong beans. We've got eggplants and oregano, and most of all, we have tomatoes. We've got black cherry tomatoes, we've got red cherry tomatoes, we've got these weird guys. And we've also got a metric crap ton of golden currents, which are tiny little tomatoes, not much larger than a pea. Why did I get so many tomato plants that make tiny tomatoes? Because I want to eat 211 tomatoes in a single sitting. One, two, five. This is going to take a while. I have picked the tomatoes. It took 34 minutes and I am drenched in sweat. Let's go inside. Actually, you know what? Before we go picking all of these tomatoes has made me want to eat it tomato, so I'm going to hold on. Mmm, delicious. I'm going to have another one. Mmm, new video title. How do you eat 213 tomatoes in a single sitting? Okay, so the first thing you're going to want to do is lay out your bountiful harvest and consider all of the time, energy, and sweat that went into the creation of this 900 calories of food. Then give thanks to actual farm workers. And then count out exactly 211 tomatoes because people on the internet are stickers about that stuff. So today we're going to make pansonella, which is essentially tomatoes with croutons. To make the croutons, you want to preheat the oven to 350 degrees, being careful not to look at your ghoulish reflection. Then take a pan, tear up some good bread, put in four-ish cloves of minced garlic, some olive oil, and then I think the technical term is you just sort of, who shit? And then once it's adequately whooshed, put it in the oven and cook it for, I don't know, like 15 minutes. Then you're going to want to chop up all of your non-golden current tomatoes. And boom! It was at this point that I realized that even 211 small tomatoes is still a lot of tomatoes. I googled can't eating too many tomatoes kill you, and it turns out probably not, but it can turn your skin orange. Incidentally, you may not think you like tomatoes. I thought I hated them until my late 20s, but it turned out I had just never had a good one. Tomatoes are one of the very few foods where the good version is essentially like a different thing than the bad version. Another example would be the difference between actual lucky charms and knock-off lucky charms. Let's go back to the recipe. Right, so you want to put all your tomatoes in a large bowl, add some balsamic vinegar, less olive oil than I just use some salt and pepper, and then whoosh. The secret to pansonella is the crunch of the croutons combined with the juiciness of the tomatoes, so it doesn't keep well once mixed. If you want leftovers, you need to keep them separate and then add them together as you go. So once your croutons are toasty, mix a handful with a handful of tomatoes, put some sliced basil on the top, and you've got yourself an excellent meal. I ate around 100 tomatoes at lunch, and then Sarah and I split the remaining tomatoes at dinner. Three great meals and my skin did not even turn orange. Now I just got to figure out what to do with those zucchini. Hank, I'll see you on Friday.