My daddy, never dad or father but daddy, loved to grow vegetables that along with fishing were his joys. I can’t rant and rave about his cooking skills, he could ruin a steak or burger on the grill in a New York minute but he could grow veggies. It was never one variety of tomatoes it was plum, big boy, cherry, yellow and other varieties or the cucumbers were the regular ones you know from salads, pickling cucumbers and lemon cucumbers. Corn and peppers, you name he grew it, out in our backyard in suburban Baltimore county.
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Before you could say farm-to-the-table, there was my daddy
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