The Impossibility of the Tomato – A Review

I don’t like tomatoes. The texture and flavor just don’t do it for me. But, I’ve been eating them lately, partly because I’m tired of being called picky and partly because I wish I could like tomatoes. Their long and troubled history with my pallet actually matches their long and troubled history with the world.

You see, after the “Columbian Exchange,” tomatoes came to Europe the same way I imagine I’d arrive to a party. Quietly and revered as poisonous.

It was quite expensive to ship foods from the New World to Europe. So, anything that came through was likely to be eaten exclusively by the wealthy. Tomatoes, chocolate, pineapples, and other new age goodies were status symbols, but the tomato was a hardier fruit, and therefore easy enough to cultivate in a wide array of soils. So, where a pineapple would be a delicacy saved for very special occasions, a tomato was not.

The issue, however came thanks to a tomatoes’ natural acidity. Back then, it wasn’t too uncommon to find a plate made of pewter or lead. While this might have caused problems before the Columbian exchange, the juices from a tomato caused the problem with a bit more regularity. Several noblemen died from complications due to lead poisoning, but since the tomato was new and a route cause of their death, it was quickly considered a poison. Word spread and most Western European cuisines shied away from using the tomato.

Meanwhile, a myth built up around the fruit. Several prominent herbalists correctly labeled the fruit as part of the nightshade family (a list containing a lot of my favorites, eggplants, bell peppers, chilis). The association with the poison known as “nightshade” has been used recently by some nutrition blogs for fear mongering, but the poison and tomatoes are only really related by taxonomy.

One such feature of the nightshade or “Solanacae” family is that the plants within contain “alkaloids.” The chemical is deadly to most living beings, well, insect and bacteria, which technically do comprise of “most” living beings. This is again, another thing used to besmirch the good name of the tomato, some people have been reported to have a sensitivity to alkaloids, and those dealing with an auto immune disease are likely to suffer from irritation when eating foods high in alkaloids, but for most people, your gut can handle it just fine.

So, people thought the tomato was poisonous, and it technically was. The tomato was also labeled an aphrodisiac and an object of temptation, but there’s not much evidence proving that to be true. The label, however, led to some interesting connotations. A fruit that was meant to tempt you and was poisonous might sound familiar, which might be a reason why these two myths spread so easily.

Eventually, reason came through… kind of. People began to notice that in the Americas, no one died from eating tomatoes. And once the sensationalism died down, the idea was that so long as the tomato was grown in a warm climate, it was safe to eat. Not much fun history happened after that. People still thought it was poisonous, but still grew them as prize fruit. They were cultivated and grown all across Europe, and yes, that includes Italy. Where, funnily enough, marinara sauce hadn’t really become the cuisine's foundation. It had been used, sure, but it didn’t really become the “Italian” staple until it was popularized in Naple…s.

That began in the late 1800s, which is when pizza was invented too. The popularity of marinara in Italy is a subject of intense debate. While it’s a mainstay in American Italian cuisine, you won’t find it at every restaurant in Italy, especially in before the 1900s. Spaghetti is more likely to be served with herbs, oil, and cheese, rather than marinara. But while I say this, someone is typing up a comment about how their Italian great great great grandmother carried the recipe for her homemade marinara in her bodice across the Atlantic Ocean in 1742. And how her perfect recipe was how she earned her money back in her hometown. And that it was better than all the other marinaras everyone was serving. But, honestly. It’s just food. I’ve never been to Italy, I just read a lot of books. So, I’m saying what the books say, okay? Back to tomatoes.

The reluctance to cook with tomatoes faded in the 1900s. There isn’t a documented reason why, it could possibly be because cheaper shipping options came around, letting the warmer climates send the “non-poisonous” variety of the red fruit across Europe. It might even be the widespread use of cookbooks that encouraged more people to try the fruit. But also, it is more prominent in Italian, Mexican, and North American cuisine, these people weren't the ones writing the history books, just yet. And while tomato use is still geographically limited, ketchup is a worldwide phenomenon. Good on you, Heinz.

Whether it’s slapped under a patty, diced and tossed with cilantro and onions, fried and green or used as the base for a sauce, the tomato has had a respectable journey. Public perception of the tomato and the concept of alkaloids/its status as a member of the nightshade family are shifting once again. It seems like we haven’t gotten quite all of those ancient prejudices out of our system just yet.

Regardless, I’m doing my best to eat them, and to understand that with every piece of dissent in the world, it might be in my best interest, to do some of my own research first.

Thanks for reading, and whenever you can, have a nice and relaxing weekend.

Edit: I like tomatoes now.

-Connor 4/9/2024