At the end of summer and the beginning of fall, right about now, I wander my garden, pretending I don’t see what I see. The tomato plants are tired and bedraggled, and so am I.

The vines have become tangled, browning versions of their former glorious selves; the tomatoes that continue to hang on for dear life are either overly ripe, stubbornly green, partially chewed up, or some sad combination.

And yet I can’t quite bring myself to pick them all, this last harvest, and admit another season is over. But alas, the garden tomato season is done, and if you’ve grown tomatoes, you know the feeling. We’ve spent months nurturing these plants, staking them, tying them up, trimming them back, admiring the first tiny green orbs, and complaining (briefly) when they finally grew, that we had more tomatoes than we knew what to do with. Now, suddenly, I’m standing in the garden thinking, Wait. Don’t go.

Humor me for a moment, dear readers, while I reminisce…

The tomato I didn’t know I planted

This year’s biggest tomato surprise came from a sad-looking plant I bought at the last minute from my local ShopRite to fill an empty spot in my garden. Yes. ShopRite (don’t get all judgy).

There was no fancy heirloom name. No handwritten tag promising “Old-Fashioned Mortgage Lifter” or “Grandma’s Something-or-Other.” It was simply a tomato plant with no tag, no pedigree, no alias, and apparently, no interest in telling me who it was.

I planted it anyway. And wouldn’t you know it? That mystery tomato produced the best overall beefsteak tomatoes in my garden!

Was it a Brandywine? A Big Boy? A Better Boy? Some obscure hybrid that’s been quietly sitting in the ShopRite greenhouse, waiting for its moment? I’ll never know. And honestly, there’s something rather charming about that.

It is a good reminder that gardening doesn’t always reward us for our research, labeling systems, spreadsheets, timed plantings, and carefully considered plans. Sometimes the unlabeled $4.99 tomato plant is the one that shows up to steal the show.

As for my other tomatoes? They were as voluptuous as Dolly Parton (a sad nod to a beautiful soul gone too soon), about as big as Steven Tyler’s famously cavernous open mouth, and as juicy as the latest gossip about Harry Styles and Zoë Kravitz. The kind of tomatoes you covet, hoard, and eat alone, standing over the kitchen sink, salt shaker in hand, taking ginormous bites while tomato water drips down your arm and perilously up into your sleeve.

At this point in the season, I’m not interested in complicated tomato plans. I’m just going to pick what’s left before the squirrels finish them off.

The ripe ones will go on the counter. The almost-ripe ones will go on the windowsill, and I’ll bring the green ones inside if the weather looks threatening. And the less-than-perfect tomatoes? They still have a job to do.

This is where I return to one of my favorite cooking philosophies: Use whatcha got.

I wrote about this idea years ago while managing the test kitchens at Fine Cooking Magazine, and it still makes perfect sense to me. Some of the best cooking happens when you stop waiting for a recipe to set you free; instead, just look around and use whatcha got! For example:

• A tomato with a bruise gets chopped for sauce.
• Green tomatoes might get breaded and fried.
• The really beautiful tomatoes get sliced and eaten immediately (see confession above).
• And the stragglers get tossed into a salad or stolen by my cats and batted around until they roll under the stove only to be found in a sun-dried state months later.

Here are a few uncomplicated recipes to help you bid farewell to tomato season, hopefully, with a smile on your face.

Easy Raw Tomato Sauce. There’s no need to fuss with the agony of peeling tomatoes, then simmering them for hours on the stovetop. The whole point is to let ripe tomatoes, garlic, basil, extra-virgin olive oil, and a little seasoning do what they do best: Join forces, marinate together, and taste like the superheroes they are.

The recipe is simple: Chop whatever tomatoes you have on hand and dump them into a large bowl. Salt to taste (I usually add 2 teaspoons of kosher salt). Add 2 to 3 large, minced garlic cloves (use a microplane if you have one). Stir in about ¼ cup good-quality extra-virgin olive oil. Add ribbons of fresh basil and let the mixture sit on the countertop while you prepare the pasta. Once the pasta is cooked al dente, drain, plate, and top with this addictive sauce. This mixture also doubles as bruschetta, if desired. Toast thickly sliced hearty multi-grain bread, rub it with a halved clove of garlic, and use a slotted spoon to top it with the tomato mixture. Heaven!

Avocado Toast. One of my favorite things about the end of tomato season is that tomatoes stop being an ingredient and start becoming a meal. A thick slice of beefsteak tomato, avocado, and basil ribbons arranged on toasted country sourdough slices, drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil, a shake of cayenne pepper, and some smoked flaky sea salt? Dinner!

Tomatoes Sautéed with Scrambled Eggs. My current favorite, and something I love making when I’m too tired to think much about cooking. This’ll serve a family of 4. Coarsely chop 4 to 5 large tomatoes. Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large, nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the tomatoes, 1 large minced garlic clove, 1 tablespoon Maggi Liquid Seasoning (or swap tamari), and 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes start to break down, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, whisk together 8 large eggs until well combined. Lower the heat to medium, add the eggs, 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, and let sit, undisturbed, until the eggs begin to form large curds, about 5 minutes. Begin folding eggs and tomatoes together with a silicone spatula, being sure not to break up all the curds, until cooked to your liking. Serve over your favorite grain (such as rice, farro, or bulgur) or pasta. An absolute winner-dinner.

And if I have enough tomatoes left to make something a little more ambitious, I usually decide between my Cherry Tomato, Caramelized Onion & Herb Ricotta Tart, the Shakshuka with Tomatoes, Chickpeas, and Mozzarella, or the Braised Romano Beans with Garlic and Tomatoes, to name a few. Let me know if anyone wants these recipes.

That’s the beauty of tomatoes. They can be the star, the supporting actor, or the sauce that quietly holds the whole production together.

So I’m not pulling all my tomato plants quite yet; I’ll keep picking.

I’ll bring in the green ones. I’ll make one more tomato sandwich. I’ll make sauce. I’ll probably eat at least one tomato over the sink. And I’ll keep wondering about that mysterious ShopRite beefsteak tomato — gardening has a wicked sense of humor, so don’t ask too many questions. Just save the seeds!