“Cut them the pretty way,” my grandmother would remind me each time I sliced tomatoes.  My reverence for the fruit was such that any way I cut them seemed to be “the pretty way” to me.  And to this day I don’t really know what she meant, I only know that there is nothing quite as delicious as a homegrown tomato.  

As with many love affairs, the origin of my affection for homegrown tomatoes is recorded not with a date, but with a string of memories.  Grandmother Nan grew tomatoes in a tiny flowerbed beneath her kitchen window. 

Although I never saw her plant them, I knew that every spring, tomatoes would be ripening as the snapdragons bloomed.  Each meal would soon be graced by a fresh sweet, warm tomato with skin so delicate you could peel it with your fingertips.  Even those “impromptu” snacks while taking car trips with my grandparents promised a tomato treat from Nan’s little garden.  These were the certainties of my childhood.

Tomatoes, native to the Andes, have been cultivated since 700 AD and are now an important food crop throughout the world.  The original wild Peruvian beauty had yellow skin which prompted the Spanish Conquistadors to name it “pomi d’oro” or “apple of gold.” Today’s tomato comes in over 10,000 varieties and in many vibrant color combinations of green, orange, yellow, and red.  Not bad for a plant that was once considered toxic. 

Even after the Spanish and Italians started consuming them, many people still thought tomatoes, a member of the nightshade botanical family, were poisonous.  When the tomato was introduced to the stock market in 1812, two aficionados with an investment to protect, proved the fruit was harmless with the strongest argument possible.  They ate tomatoes in public.  Oddly, at one time, some people also thought the tomato was an aphrodisiac, a belief that, apparently, no one wanted to prove - or disprove - in the public forum.  

Aphrodisiac or not, modern science says the tomato is a very wise food choice.  Tomatoes are packed full of vitamins, particularly A and C, which don’t seem to deteriorate even when the tomato is cooked.  Additionally, the tomato or  “Lycopersicon lycopersicum” contains an antioxidant called, what else, “Lycopene” which helps thwart cancer, heart disease, and some age-related diseases.

The tomato has a dual citizenship; it is both fruit and vegetable.  Because the tomato is the seed producer of the plant, it is classified as a fruit in botanical circles.  However, the courts have determined that for legal matters, the tomato is a vegetable because it is usually eaten with the main course of a meal.

The agriculture industry has improved tomato varieties, growing and shipping methods to the point that ripe tomatoes are available throughout the year.  However, even with these advancements, the commercial product just doesn’t compare with one from your own yard.  Once tasted, the homegrown tomato will drive a person to extremes as evidenced by the following true story.  The names and location have been changed because, well, because I promised. But the story is still true.

Waldo moved his lovely family to a quaint 100-year-old home in metropolitan BigCity late last spring.  It’s a family friendly place with a large well-shaded backyard.  Too shady.  In fact, the tree-lined yard just didn’t allow enough sunlight through for a tomato garden.  So, being a man with intelligence, pluck and a chainsaw, Waldo determined that he could get enough sunlight to grow the object of his lust with the removal of only one tree.

He carefully went about this task with diligence and calculations befitting a scientist, which Waldo is, so you know he’s no slouch when it comes to brain-matter.  The angle of the cut, the direction of the fall, wind gusts, air temperature and harmonic convergence were all taken into consideration.  Waldo even determined that the retaining wall that separated his property from the city easement for the commuter rail service would guide the sacrificed tree to a desirable, safe resting place.

Everything went as planned until the tree exhibited a stubborn willfulness heretofore characteristic only of computers and small children.  With complete disregard for Waldo’s brilliant scheme, the doomed tree jumped the wall, slid down the other side and straddled the rails of the BigCity Rapid Transit system.  The line was shut down for the rest of the day.

Any shameless tomato lover might summarize Waldo’s afternoon adventure as

tomato plants:  $4.50

fertilizer:  $6.95

lost revenue from afternoon of blocked light rail traffic:  $10,074.75

homegrown tomatoes: worth it