The Tomatoes of My Youth
Summer's fling.
If you are not from New Jersey or the general vicinity of the state then you may not know that Jersey tomatoes are the best in the whole wide world. Therefore, you will probably think that a woman who lets out an ungodly shriek upon seeing them at the neighborhood fruit stand is slightly batty. There’s a universally accepted vision of a perfect summer tomato. It should be round and plumb, the unblemished skin taunt and sunny red. Jersey tomatoes are the opposite, more blobs than round, and just look at that unsightly scab splitting the skin from stem to stern! The woman immediately blocks everyone else and fills three big bags— $36.48 worth of ugly tomatoes. If someone is excitedly shelling out $36.48, you and everyone else in the store may begin to reevaluate and double back to retrieve the few she’s left behind.
The specialness of Jersey tomatoes rests on their old-fashioned meaty sweet and tart flavor but more so—and this is key here—their fatal flaw. They have never been bred to survive shipping. Their skin is very fragile and they must be gently packed to endure any great distance beyond New Jersey’s border. Even within the state you may have to drive down back roads to come upon a local farmer’s stand or know a gardener who is having a bumper crop season. In the last decade or so a few larger producers have tried their hands at extending the tomato’s reach but they have to be picked too early to arrive somewhat undamaged and will then lack the full flavor of their vine-ripen relative.
The tomato’s rarity alone is worth shrieking over. But this is not widely known, so taste is the only way it has to lure converts. You’ve picked one out of its box and probably paid at least $3.50 for it (they’re heavy). Now it sits on your kitchen cutting board and what you want to do is cut it into thick slices. Don’t put anything on the flesh, no salt, no herbs, no olive oil nor balsamic vinegar. Your first taste of a Jersey tomato must be pure, unadulterated. Shriek worthy, right? Now add the flavor of your choice, starting with just a bit of salt—summer in every mouthful. You’ll devour the rest right there from the cutting board and then be overtaken by a desire to run back down to the stand and score your own $36.38 worth of Jersey tomatoes.
Or maybe you won’t. Memory plays such a huge part in what we love and hate at the table that your sense of a tomato’s perfection is different. Mine is hitched to my family’s New Jersey shore vacations where we feasted almost every day on tomatoes. On the ride home, my mom cradled a large paper bag of them in the station wagon’s spacious front seat while her three sunburnt kids scraped across the sandy back, crammed in among the faded beach umbrella and sagging web chairs, the cooler, fishing rods, crab cage, and suitcases. For the next few days the tomatoes were the star of every meal. The unruly teenager in the house sometimes cupped a whole one in her hand over the sink and with each salty bite its juice and seeds slipped through her fingers and down her chin, the final vice of a frisky night.
Learn more about the history of my tomatoe’s right here!
Yes, I agree! NJ tomatoes are spectacular.
Amen sister!