Mmmm... Spanish tomates, rows of them growing on bamboo frames, the smell of sun warmed earth and vines, and tearing off huge, bulbous deliciously uneven fruit, as big as my fist, streaked with green, gold, orange-red, perhaps some flecks of white. And eaten then and there, with just a touch of salt, seeds and juices dribbling down my chin, smearing my fingers. I don't think I'll ever grow out of this pleasure, even hand picked grapes, strawberries and peaches pale in comparison to my delight in the freshest tomatoes.

I never understood why the tomatoes in England were always so lucklustre and insipid, wraithlike even, and then I found out that very few of those that are sold commercially here ever got the chance to spread their roots and feed on real soil.
They're almost all grown hydroponically in this stuff

Oh how I'm going to gorge on tomates next time I'm in Spain in July....