talbotlucas.org: a word to the wise is sufficient

These, friends, are Dominick's sundried tomatoes, the product of his grandfather's farm in Italy. Who is Dominick? Why am I writing about sundried tomatoes, which have become common?

Dominick is one of the staff at the The Cheese Store of Beverly Hills, and he's clearly a man who loves his work. Thursday last, while Terrence was at the dentist, I made a detour to The Cheese Store. This wasn't my first visit, but it was the first time I visited while Dominick was behind the counter. After weighing several options (settling on a marvelous Morbier; a blue from Tasmania, Roaring 40s; and a goat cheese crottin that had arrived that morning from France), Dominick asked me if I liked sundried tomatoes.

Well, sure, but what he gave me to sample was scrumptious, and unlike any sundried tomatoes I've had. It seems Dominick's grandfather, who lives in Italy, allows his tomatoes to dry in the sun, on the vine. Not on a wooden board (which isn't bad), not in an oven (the commercial way). On the vine. He gave me one to taste, and then a generous sample to take home, and Terrence agreed--these make the sundried tomatoes we've tried seem...well...dry. Tired. Spent. Dominick's grandfather ships the tomatoes to California, and Dominick gives them a lovely, garlic/olive oil bath. And then brings them to the store.

The Cheese Store's web site doesn't do justice to their selection, which is stellar. Like Berkeley's Cheese Board, you're offered a generous taste of whatever it is you're considering. If something isn't at its best, they say so. Similarly, if something is good but you haven't thought of it, they're not shy about recommending. When I asked Dominick for the one cheese I couldn't leave without, he smiled, ducked under the counter, and produced a wooden crate with the crottins that had arrived that morning. Magnifique!

Thursday's with Dominick may have to become a regular feature of the blog...