Famed Southern humorist Lewis Grizzard once said, “It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a homegrown tomato.” I challenge anyone to disprove his statement.
I was born in Atlanta and have lived all over Georgia, from Savannah to Lavonia and many places in between. I believe that here in the South, we have some of the best food in the world! Bacon is critical, but the lowly tomato is higher on the popularity scale with me because it’s in everything! People are obsessed with growing, selecting, and eating this versatile fruit or vegetable.
I remember when I was young and, in the summer, we would go to the farmer’s market just minutes from Atlanta. In 1959, one hundred and fifty acres were dedicated to the most delectable fruits, vegetables, and anything else you could imagine. The farmers who worked so hard to raise their prize crops always let me taste a ripe peach or tomato, and I loved it. My mom canned wonderful food for the winter, and we never left the farmer’s market without big containers of crowder peas, butter beans (with the promise of sore thumbnails), peaches, and of course, tomatoes!
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There are days when my mind progresses or digresses willy-nilly from one subject to another at the speed of light.
Today, thoughts of an early lunch filled my brain until I saw a big red juicy tomato that, even without eyes, seemed to be staring at me from my kitchen counter. This made me think about a campy horror movie of 1978, “The Attack of the Killer Tomatoes,” with tomatoes, yes … I said tomatoes, brutally attacking human beings. In the riveting movie with giant tomatoes rolling toward their victims, scientists united to save the world from those mutant tomatoes, and thank goodness, they finally succeeded. With those thoughts in mind, I put the tomato back on the counter.
I was feeling slightly fearful because I was almost alone in the house (just the tomato on the counter and me), and to quell my fear, I turned my attention to a sweet memory.
Years ago, we were given a little Scotty puppy that we named Chewy McGum. She was the only tomato-eating dog we ever raised. I worked so hard growing my tomato plants only to find the lower vines devoid of all tomatoes just before they ripened; oddly enough, the desecration only extended to the height our Scottie’s long snout could reach. She never ate the stems or leaves, thank goodness, because they are toxic. I wasn’t comfortable spraying or dusting the plants for bugs or disease because our dog, which should have been named Houdini, could get to them no matter where they grew. I have seen our mustached, short-legged dog jump for an extended period to reach a single almost ripe tomato just out of her range. Once, when we returned from shopping, my neighbor Dot confessed to picking the last tomato off the vine and giving it to Chewy after seeing the dog lying on the ground, exhausted from her attempts at a final harvest.
The sweet memory faded when my stomach growled from hunger. So, I picked the tomato up again. I was thinking how much I love tomatoes whether they are raw (with or without peeling), mixed into casseroles and stews, and, having grown up in the South, fried. Time has changed many things about my body and a few things about my food preferences. When I was very young, I would run the other way if any dish contained a recognizable bit of tomato. I loved spaghetti sauce back then because no one told me it was made from tomatoes. Likewise, no one ever spilled the beans over where the meat came from that was tucked inside my hamburger bun, or heavens-to-Betsy, that it once walked around on four legs, but I digress!
My mind wandered again. Evidentially the hunger pangs were just mildly uncomfortable. I returned the tomato back to its assigned place on the kitchen counter and turned on the TV. I couldn’t find the “Killer Tomatoes” movie on any channel, so I settled for an old favorite from 1991. “Fried Green Tomatoes”. It was based on the novel “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café” by an Alabama girl, Fannie Flagg. The author and actress chose a most unusual name when she began a career in show business; because her birth name, Patricia Neal, was the name of an already famous actress.
Even though the “Fried Green Tomatoes” story took place in Irmo, Alabama, the movie scenes were shot in Juilette, Georgia. Most of the towns then grew up around the train tracks as a stop-over before heading to destinations in Georgia with interesting names like Ludowici, Dacula, Harlem, Ty Ty, and Enigma. The movie brought back many childhood memories of the beautiful scenes of small rural towns and the taste of old-timey (old style) southern food. And now, my television screen is completely covered with a plate of fried green tomatoes from the fake Whistle Stop Cafe. I must confess that the paused picture of green tomatoes sparked a craving much like an extremely slow subliminal suggestion!
As the screen was paused, I whipped out my phone to search for an easy recipe for fried green tomatoes! I’m easily sidetracked when I’m searching for something online. Of course, I lost my place in the recipe genre and began to read about the historical controversy over the exact classification of the lowly tomato. In other words, what in the world is it?
According to the tiny text on my phone, tomatoes are native to South America. Some historians credit the Aztecs as the first to cultivate the plant. How do they know? The controversy as to whether the tomato should be called a fruit or a vegetable began many years ago.
In 1893, the U.S. Supreme Court became heavily involved in the debate and declared the tomato to be a vegetable.
When in doubt, ask an authority. Greg Key, the owner of Hoss Tools in Norman Park, GA, and a true expert in our region, declared the tomato to be a fruit. For several years his company has been a prominent seller of seed and growing equipment with expertise in so much more than the cultivation of tomatoes. Greg says tomatoes are the most popular item grown in home gardens. His company sells 60 varieties of tomato seeds with an online university supporting anyone wishing to grow their own. I never knew there were so many varieties of tomatoes!
Botanists have such an excellent way of confusing things as they detail the lowly tomato’s origin and properties. They describe the tomato vine as having pubescent-type hairs and the plant as having developed from the plant’s ovary. Fruit or vegetable, perhaps there is a third classification closer to something human that needs to be considered!
