The Tangled Tale of the Tomato
By Jennie Shurtleff
Tomatoes have a long and complicated history. If tomatoes were people—which thankfully they’re not—they would probably have a team of lawyers working on defamation lawsuits because of the misinformation spread about them over the centuries. They might also find themselves reclining on a couch talking to a therapist as they try to work through multiple identity crises centering around such important questions as: “Am I fruit or a vegetable?” “Which of the nicknames they’ve given me - ‘love apple,’ ‘golden apple,’ or ‘wolf peach’ - most accurately reflects my true nature?” And , of course, the all-consuming question of “Should my name be pronounced ‘to-may-toe’ or ‘to-mah-toe.’”
As with any complicated tale, it’s best to start at the beginning.
It’s widely agreed that tomatoes originated in what is now South America, in the regions of modern-day Peru and Ecuador. This conclusion is supported by early herbology texts, historical accounts, DNA analysis of preserved specimens in Europe, and comparisons with tomatoes native to the Americas. Scholars have also reviewed early botanical illustrations and written records dating as far back as 1544 to trace the plant’s “family tree.”
Tomatoes later made an appearance in Mesoamerica, where they were domesticated and incorporated into Aztec cuisine. As cultivation of the plant advanced, its fruit increased in size, and various shapes and colors began to emerge. In the Aztec language of Nahuatl, tomatoes were known as tomatl, which has been translated as “plump fruit with navel.” The Spanish were likely first introduced to this fruit sometime between 1519 and 1521, when the Spanish conquistador Hernan Cortes invaded the Aztec capital of Tenochtitlan (present-day Mexico City). Following the fall of Tenochtitlan, Cortex and his allies pillaged the capital, taking gold, treasures, and a variety of other items that caught their attention. Cortes was impressed enough with the tomatl, which the Spanish renamed tomate, that he brought its seeds back to Europe and shared them among members of the court and other aristocrats.
First European Representation of a Tomato, By Pietro Andrea Mattioli (1500-1577) [Public domain], via Wikimedia
By the mid-1500s, European nobles, many of whom fancied themselves amateur naturalists, planted tomatoes in their gardens along with other exotic species. The tomato at this time was largely used as an ornamental plant. While the Spanish knew that the Aztecs consumed tomatoes, Europeans initially greeted the fruit with suspicion—largely due to its being a member of the nightshade family, which was known to includes a number of toxic plants. Moreover, early on, some Europeans did experiment with eating tomatoes and reportedly became ill after eating them, reinforcing the fears that tomatoes were poisonous. Later it was determined that the problem wasn’t the tomato itself. Rather, it was the plates on which the tomatoes were served and eaten. Many wealthy people in Europe used pewter plates, which contained lead. The acid in tomatoes reacted with the lead, causing it to leach into the food, which resulted in lead poisoning.
Despite having its reputation impugned when accused of being poisonous, tomatoes continued to grace ornamental gardens with their elegant leaves, delicate flowers, and stunning variety of fruit that ranged from small and round to large and deeply ridged, and colors that included reds, browns, yellows, and golds.
The golden varieties led to the Italian name pomodoro, meaning “golden apple.” In France, tomatoes were sometimes known as pomme d’amour, or “love apple,” and some posited that they were aphrodisiacs, likely because of their resemblance to the mandrake, which was believed to increase both amorous desires and fertility. Others referred to the tomato as a “wolf peach,” a translation of its original scientific name Lycopersicon, reflecting early suspicions that it was both alluring and dangerous.
The Mediterranean region was the first place in Europe where tomatoes were fully embraced as a culinary ingredient. Eventually, the rest of Europe and Northern America followed suit. One of the best known promoters of tomatoes in the United States was Thomas Jefferson. He helped shift public opinion by growing tomatoes in the gardens of his Monticello estate from 1809 to 1824 and including them in his meals.
Some people concluded that if tomatoes were healthy to eat, then they also likely had some medicinal value. It is of little surprise, then, that in the early to mid 19th century tomatoes became the celebrated ingredient in some patent medicines. Newspapers like the Woodstock Mercury and the Windsor County Advertiser advertised remedies such as “Dr. Phelp’s Compound Tomato Pills,” claiming they could treat everything from dyspepsia and jaundice to rheumatism, coughs, and “glandular swellings of all kinds.” In Woodstock, these pills were sold in local stores, including the one owned by the Dana family.
The Dana family’s store on Elm Street.
By 1879, attitudes had changed again. A retrospective article in The Spirit of the Age mocked the earlier tomato pill craze, noting that in the advertisements, “the innocent fruit was charged with acting upon the liver like Calomel” and dismissed the pills as a “quack medicine” that “soon died a natural death.” Despite being alternately maligned as poison and praised as a miracle cure, by the late 19th century the tomato had finally settled into a more accurate reputation—as a tasty, versatile, and nutritious food.
A number of early historic heirloom varieties of tomatoes from the late 19th and early 20th centuries still remain. These are open-pollinated, non-hybrid varieties of tomatoes that have been grown and passed down for many years (the criteria varies from 50 to 100 years). While heirloom varieties may have a shorter shelf life, less resistance to fungus and pests, and other qualities that make them less profitable to raise than the varieties used by most of today’s commercial growers, they are beloved for their exceptional flavor and remain favorites among home gardeners and at farmers’ markets.
THE GREAT TOMATO DEBATES
“Is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable?”
“Is “tomato” pronounced “to-may-toe” or “to-mah-toe”?”