Lucie Dubes - The journey of tomatoes: a touching story of ‘adopting the unknown’

When entering a restaurant in Florence, it seems unavoidable to encounter this round-shaped red fleshy fruit also known under the name of ‘tomato.’ Fresh or cooked, found in soup, sauce or salad, the golden apple seems like a ‘culinary centerpiece’ of Italian cuisine (Nunn, 163). From the ‘zuppa di pomodoro’ to the ‘pasta alla bolognese’ to the ‘caprese,’ the presence of tomato in Italian dishes is an evidence. In fact, in contemporary times, Italy is no other than ‘Europe’s premier tomatoes nation’ (Sonnenfeld, IX). However, tomatoes have been through harsher times in the past, far away from being cherished by the Italians. From being considered a ‘toxic plant’ to acquiring the affectionate nickname of ‘love apple,’ tomatoes have gone through radical changes in the mental conceptions of its consumers, taking over three centuries to finally be accepted. 

First and foremost, it is important to note that tomatoes were not originally grown in Italy. Originally from South Africa, tomatoes were introduced to the Old World through the 15th and 16th centuries’ global trade network, also known as the Columbian exchange (Nunn, 171). The introduction of this foreign, un-classifiable produce did not immediately won unanimous support. 

As nutrition and health were tightly linked in people’s mind, tomatoes’ inability to preserve and tendency to ‘become putrid in hot climates’ and ‘hinder digestion’ raised suspicion in terms of its health risks (Nunn, 172; Sonnenfeld, 47). However, as medicine shifted its focus towards ‘body functions as chemical and mechanic processes,’ the perception of tomatoes radically changed, and these inoffensive fruits became classified as ‘medicinal ingredients’ (Sonnenfeld, 48). When thinking of our contemporary perception of tomatoes as ‘important source of vitamins,’ ‘powerful antioxidant’ and ‘help (to) reduce cancer,’ it is very interesting to note that the story of tomatoes is an adequate lens for making sense of the evolution of medical thoughts and knowledge over time. 

The shift in perception of tomatoes’ medical properties helped through the process of ‘adopting’ them in the gastronomic world. The first allusions of tomatoes in recipes indicates their primary use as ‘complement(ing) the flavor of dishes’ (Sonnenfeld, 49), alternatively to spices. Later on, literature on how to cook tomatoes traduces its multi-functionality in the kitchen: from ’delicious dip sauce,’ to ‘zuppa,’ to ‘frittata alli pomodoro,’ the cooking possibilities were not missing. From ‘acidic’ they became ‘tasty,’ and from ‘tasty’ they became ‘good for us.’ Additionally, while primarily rare and consumed by ‘only the social elites,’ Italy’s favorable climate allowed a higher production of tomatoes, lowering its cost, and increasing its access to the poor. Understandably so, the 19th century witnessed a rise of tomatoes consumption in the Italian society to the extent where tomatoes became ‘so common that people were throwing them away’ (Sonnenfeld, 64). 

Though the slow process of ‘adopting the tomato’ might seem odd nowadays, I have to admit I myself experienced a similar feeling during my first encounter with the famous ‘Pomodoro cuore di bue’ (heart of beef tomato). Having heard my parents talked about Italy raising the ‘most delicious’ kind tomatoes they had even eaten, I felt that it was part of my contract to taste them while in Italy. However, when seeing this ribbed, tumid looking tomato, the first words that came to mind were ‘there must be a mistake, why are there putrid fruits on the shelf.’ Erasing my prejudices, I decided not to ‘judge the book by its cover’ and tried it. I have to admit, while eating my first bite, I almost regretted adding olive oil and balsamic, so much their taste was delightful. Absence of seeds, abounding flesh, and indescribable tastiness, my palate and I made a pact to never again judge a food by its look - until the next food poisoning, that is. 

I thought this little anecdote was interesting in the context of the history of tomatoes. From South America to Europe, from ‘horrible’ to portrayed in art works, from elite products to food of the poor, from toxic to healthy, tomatoes have travelled a long way geographically, esthetically, sociologically and scientifically over the past centuries. Nowadays, as Nunn argues, tomatoes ‘significantly altered the cuisine of Italy’, and ‘have truly become a global food’ (167, 172). But the question is, did tomatoes really change? Of course not: it is our understanding and perception of them that changed. As Sonnenfeld would argue, over the past centuries, tomatoes were subject to a process of ‘acculturation’ (47). In conclusion, the story of tomatoes is a perfect lens of study for understanding the universal process of ‘taming the unknown.’