By Sydney Sevdalis
There is a moment in summer when a tomato stops being an ingredient and becomes the whole meal.
It is warm from the garden and perhaps a little misshapen. Its delicate skin splits easily, and its colors may be anything but uniform, but add a little salt, and the whole tomato comes alive. It will be the best-tasting tomato you have ever enjoyed. This is the particular pleasure of an heirloom tomato. But why?
The answer begins with what tomatoes have been asked to do. Modern commercial varieties must ripen predictably, resist disease, survive harvesting equipment, travel hundreds of miles and remain presentable beneath grocery-store lights. Flavor has not always been the first priority.
A tomato’s flavor comes from a balance of sugars, acids and aromatic compounds called volatiles. These create the floral, fruity, grassy, smoky and savory notes we recognize as “tomato.” Sweetness alone is not enough. A truly good tomato is a feat of chemistry.
Heirlooms were selected differently. Gardeners and farming families often saved them because somebody loved how they tasted. The prettiest or firmest tomato was not necessarily chosen. Seeds were collected from the tomato someone wanted to eat again next summer.
The Brandywine may be the grandest example. Brandywines are large, pink, indeterminate beefsteak tomatoes with tender flesh and rich, balanced flavor. They grow on unruly vines with broad “potato leaves” rather than the serrated foliage of most tomato plants.
They are not convenient. The vines need support. The fruit will crack unless conditions are perfectly ideal and consistent. Production is modest compared to that of commercialized varieties. A Brandywine will never be mistaken for a tomato designed by a shipping department, yet gardeners have grown it for more than a century.
Then there is the Cherokee Purple tomato. Its shoulders may remain green when ripe. Beneath its dusty purple skin, the flesh deepens toward crimson. Both tomatoes belong to the Ark of Taste, a catalog of culturally significant foods at risk of disappearing. The Ark of Taste describes the Cherokee Purple’s flavor as extremely sweet, with refreshing acidity and a smoky, earthy finish. Its modern story began when tomato collector Craig LeHoullier received seeds from John Green of Tennessee. Green wrote that they came from a family whose ancestors had received them from Cherokee people more than a century earlier. The Ark makes a compelling argument: flavor itself is worth protecting.
For more good advice, good conversation, and plenty of garden pictures, join the neighborhood’s SE ATL Gardeners group on Facebook and show us what you’re growing.
