When I was young, my family would drive from Colorado all the way to New Jersey every few years to see my Grandparents and go “down the shore”. We loved the seashore. The red sun setting over the bay, the clatter of the seagulls in the morning, the smell of the grass on the dunes, the feel of my dad’s skin – too coated with suntan lotion to hold on to – as he chucked me into the waves. I remember it all so vividly because I was young. And still to this day, I remember the taste of the New Jersey roadside-stand tomatoes as being like nothing else. You could just chomp into them like a squishy, messy apple. To me, that is the taste of summertime, of vacation, and of my youth.