There’s a lot going on in the world today. The Olympics just concluded in Paris, which I’m told is in France. There are race riots in England, which I’m told is not in France. And here on our home soil, also not in France, the presidential election is heating up. That’s why I want to take this moment to talk about the tomato.
The tomato is, as everybody’s heard and immediately forgot, not a vegetable. The tomato is, according to botanists, a fruit. More specifically, botanists say the tomato is a berry. I don’t want to tell botanists how to do their job but I will say that botanists telling us the tomato is not only a fruit but also a berry is one of the reasons why nobody likes botanists.
I’ve been planting tomatoes for years. The growing process of a tomato is kind of a small miracle. In the spring you plant the seed. You then add sun and water. If you’re the touchy-feely type, I guess you can add love. Personally, I put my tomatoes in cages to show ‘em who’s boss. Also, this strengthens the vine as it grows.
From here I let time do its thing.
The seed germinates and turns into a seedling. That seedling grows into a tiny plant with leaves. The tiny plant grows into a medium plant, now with a serious stem and many branches. At this point, touchy-feely types start telling their plants jokes. The thing keeps growing up and out until finally, the plant flowers and develops fruit. (At this point it’s common practice to put a “kick me” sign on the back of the nearest botanist.)
Anyway, the “fruit” starts small and green. Many months after you began this journey, the thing turns red and ripens, presenting Your First Tomato to the world! You bring Your First Tomato inside and attempt to share the excitement with your family. Your family looks at Your First Tomato with indifference and you, holding Your First Tomato like the chosen infant, with pity.
You might eat Your First Tomato raw, with some extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of salt. Your First Tomato tastes sweet and savory, like life. There’s some acidity, too, also like life. Days bestow more tomatoes to your garden - and kitchen. You put tomatoes on sandwiches, in salads. You use tomatoes as toppings on everything from pizza to eggs.
Then… The Onslaught.
A tomato a day turns into two tomatoes a day that turns into FIFTEEN TOMATOES A DAY?! The Onslaught. Day 1; Adrenaline alone takes us/these tomatoes to the land of… tomato sauce!; The Onslaught. Day 2) Not ideal for late August but perfect for dipping a grilled cheese… Tomato soup!; The Onslaught. Day 3) Inspiration alone begets… homemade ketchup. (Note: Making ketchup includes doing terrible, hitherto unheard-of-things to tomatoes called blanching.) The Onslaught. Day 4): Salsa; tomato pie; tomato jelly; bushels of tomatoes to neighbors; more tomato soup; throwing tomatoes at subpar theatrical performances, etc. The Onslaught. Day 5) Man considers then abandons the idea of canning. The Onslaught. Day 6) Build an arc. Float off into the sunset.
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Let the record show, I like tomatoes. As a matter of fact, I like tomatoes… a lot. In the interest of clarification, I could probably eat tomatoes every day for the rest of my life and be happy. That said… a man has limits. Yes, tomato limits. A man draws a line in the sand. Yes, a tomato line.
There’s still a lot going on in the world today. Concluding Olympics, race riots, a presidential election, etc. And this time of year, tomatoes come for us all. Yes, too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. My advice: weather the storm; endure. And, if you get a chance, heckle a botanist.
what is better than a ripe Minnesota tomato? you better do zucchini next, one day they are the size of a pickle, then, the next day, it is the size of a base ball bat.
I hate tomatoes. I wish this was an essay about artichokes.