Coping with Tomato Overload
September. This is a special time of year, just right for the Queen of the Garden, the tomato.
So enraptured have we become over this cousin to deadly nightshade that we have cultivated no fewer than 2,700 varieties of tomato, in a rainbow of colors and a seemingly endless assortment of sizes and shapes. Volumes of history have been written about it, Louis Armstrong sang about mispronouncing it, and everyone seems to know that people used to think it was poisonous (some actually are, and the leaves and stalks of most are toxic).
The tomato has been prized for its versatility, cherished for its supposed aphrodisiac qualities, and utilized as a projectile in Vaudeville. Those aerodynamic qualities are still exploited in Buol, Spain, where the last Wednesday in August becomes an orgy of tomato wallowing, ostensibly in honor of the town’s patron saint, San Luis Bertran. Since the fight is usually a “boys vs. girls” affair, it rapidly becomes something of a wet T-shirt contest.
In this country we have come to be a bit more respectful of the tomato, but we do have our moments of degradation. Chief among these is the curious American obsession with eating out of season. This has resulted in those flavorless, mealy pink baseballs that are shipped green from Mexico, force-ripened with ethylene gas in train cars en route to Chicago, then passed off as tomatoes at your local grocery store in February. The tomato is one of those vegetables that, like asparagus, are best eaten during a particular season, and the season is upon us.
Read the whole story at Huffington Post.




