I must have smelled the scent of a tomato vine stem at least a thousand times in my life, in so many different places throughout my life, but it only ever conjures up one memory. Standing at the kitchen sink, tearing the sun-ripened tomatoes off the vine, the smell hits me in the guts every time, green, fresh and sharp, yet somehow dusty. It transports me across oceans and back in time, to the garden of family…