As some of you know from my bio, I live in the great state of New Jersey. Not only do I live here, but I was born and raised in the Garden State…before leaving for college and my twentysomething years. Being from “the Jerz” is not always easy. I’ve spent plenty of time having to defend our exits, our accent, our corrupt politicians. But that’s fine, I don’t mind since I have plenty of evidence of what makes us such a fine state: Thomas Edison invented electricity here for goodness sake! And then there are the beaches, the bar pies, the Frank Sinatra, the Jersey Devil…a very long list of contributions and achievements. But now we are in the midst of something incredibly strange—NJ has now become a popular source of reality show entertainment. You know what I’m tawkin’ about. The Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Yes, if you’re asking, I watch both. How can I not? They are so friggin’ entertaining. But bad stereotypes and table-flipping aside, I loved that on the debut episode of season 2 of TRHONJ they showed a very pregnant Teresa spending the day with her entire Italian family making tomato sauce from the end-of-summer bounty of plum tomatoes (here’s a link: link on Eater if you want to watch…or admit you’re not already a fan of the show). It was such a strange and beautiful site. On this completely insane show full of maniacs, big boobs and even bigger wine-fueled drama, to see them going old school in their McMansion driveway, washing the tomatoes, simmering them, lining up the beautiful Ball jars full of basil leaves. It did my Jersey heart proud…we really are the crazy Garden State.

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