When a tomato is a tomato, you can call a whole lot of other into the equation, or not. Imagine THE one takes a walk across your path, and stops right there in front of you and in that second every sense is satisfied and at the same time wanting more, and not from anything that you could possibly add to him, like different pants or changing his part, but just more of what he’s already GOT. A good tomato, red, still firm but full of juice, smelling sweet, deep and light like the moment that a summer day melts into evening is going to move you from the inside, and you might want to pick some basil to go along with it, or you might not. You might leave yourself hanging long enough to slice it and get it into a sandwich with good bread with nothing but mayonnaise and a little salt, or you might not. I ate quite a bit of mine before it made it into the pasta last night. I seeded the tomato, chopped it, added olive oil, salt, torn basil leaves and minced fresh garlic. When the pasta was ready, I strained it, tossed it with my tomatoes and added some salt. You want to add parmesan, or black pepper or a little chopped shallot, or get the garlic golden first and then crisp the basil leaves to a dark green and swirl in the tomatoes, you can do that too, but raw is very good.