During my childhood summers in Wisconsin, we bought our tomatoes from the farmer kids who ran their family farm stand outside of Williams Bay. Mom sliced them thin. Dad piled them on his plate and spooned white sugar all over them. I was never sold on the sugar-on-tomatoes thing, but I gave it a try a few times. I preferred my tomatoes on top of the burgers Dad and the uncles cooked over charcoal in the back yard. After a long afternoon down at the lake waiting for a turn to ride on the boat or chasing with other kids at the beach, those burgers were about the best thing I ever tasted. Tomato time every year takes me back to Williams Bay and the farm stand and the smell of burgers on the grill.