It seems lately that everyone in town is busy blogging about fruits and vegetables, green roofs and gardens. Even Mayor Daley is getting in on the action. And they’re doing such a good job of it that I am embarrassed to add to the noise. But, hey! Check out these tomatoes!

These luscious heirloom Stupices (“Stupix”? “Stupii”?) are the earliest fruits of a motley garden of wayward plants cobbled together from seedlings of wildly varying provenance. My tiny front yard gets maybe seven hours of sun daily, and the outside spigot has been busted for the last week, which has meant multiple trips down to the basement sink with a watering can. When I  bit into the very first Stupice last night I tasted sweet, hard-won success.

The garden started with two Green Zebras, a Gloria, a Flamme, and one “mystery tomato” germinated early this spring in the Pacific Garden Mission greenhouse. The Flamme (above) is running a close second to the Stupice, and I’m looking forward to adding some orange to the visual mix. And then, to eating them. 

The Gloria (about which there is little to be found on the internets) set a cluster of teeny tiny fruits in just the last few days, but the “mystery tomato” is recalcitrant, just sitting there all tall, leafy, and resolutely fruit-free. As are the Zebras — but I have had very low expectations of them ever since I transplanted the seedlings and discovered that the root structure of each ran barely an inch deep. In fact, I’m shocked they are still alive.

The blurry beads above should eventually bloom into a crop of Beauty at her Bests. Or that, at least, is what’s written on the popsicle stick stuck into its potting soil. (And, what is it with tomato nomenclature and awkward pluralization?) This is also an heirloom but, as with Gloria, information is hard to come by, so many early tomato farmers being proud enough of their varietals to dub them “Beauties” that they form a sprawling, if indistinct, family. (Intriguing rare siblings include White Beauty and Brazilian Beauty.)

I got this seedling, along with a sweet Cherry Roma, a late-ripening Hillbilly Potato Leaf, and some rambunctious basil, from the Eckhart Park Garden Club’s plant sale in May. The park garden is looking gorgeous right now, probably because my contribution this year has been nonexistent. But I did give them some money. The Roma and the Hillbilly were both started by Susan Goss, of West Town Tavern, and while neither has, to date, produced any fruit, I have vested an irrational amount of faith in their future thanks to their celebrity parentage.

I picked up another four plants from the Slow Food Chicago tomato sale (or, actually, Vera picked them up for me, and then delivered them along with my veggies. Thanks V.) They are all still quite small (it would help if I could get it together to transfer them to larger pots) but I am hopeful that they will bear fruit in time for September’s tomato festival. In lieu of fruit, I am taking pleasure in their terrific, evocative names. They are, from right to left, a Thai Pink Egg, a Paul Robeson, and a True Black Brandywine. Not pictured:  Japanese Black Trifele.

Finally, in addition to the overachieving Stupice — a traditional early bloomer  — I’m coaxing along a shy Kellogg’s Breakfast, five peppers (Rooster Spur, Santa Fe, Napoleon, and two Chocolates)  and two exotic eggplants (a Ping Tung Long and an Udumalpet, whose flowers at least are lovely), all of which I got from Bruce, who is better than me at cataloguing this stuff.

Only the Stupice and the Chocolate peppers (above) have set fruit, but I remain optimistic. The little kids next door have taken to pelting me with questions every time I haul out the watering can — Why aren’t those tomatos red? Will the peppers be spicy? Can I touch the eggplant? — and would hate to let them down. If nothing else I’m hoping to rope them into watering when I go on vacation.

How little sun can a tomato plant bear?

What will PGM’s  “mystery tomato” produce?

Will the broken spigot force me to finish building these SIPs? 

Answers to these and other burning questions forthcoming. Someday.