The Simple Tomato
Few ingredients ask for so little and give so much in return
There are over 10,000 tomato varieties on this earth, and I suspect every single one tastes phenomenal with a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of sea salt.
Made almost entirely of water, these umami-rich balls of flavour are the star of summer produce. However if it weren’t for the aromas, we’d perhaps think differently.
A tomato's magic isn't really in its appearance. It's in its smell. Those aromas are what create the anticipation - the promise of what the tomato is about to become.
One of my favourite ways of preparing tomatoes is sliced, with crumbled feta on top. Pinch of salt and pepper and lashings of extra virgin olive oil. You cannot beat it! Until my late 20s, I had always resorted to making Caprese Salads when I fancied a simple tomato salad. Then on one blessed day, I saw my father-in-law prepare two chunky heirloom tomatoes in this way - I realised mozzarella had been getting far too much credit in the salad department, and it was quietly shown the door.
I have fond memories of Horiatiki Salad on a self-catering holiday in Greece in the summer of 2022. Obligatory daily doses of the stuff because the tomatoes just smelt too darn good not to!
And Mexico knows a thing or two about tomatoes too. I mean who doesn’t love Pico De Gallo?! Traditionally made with Roma tomatoes (or plum tomatoes), this salad is a zingy accompaniment to any Mexican dinner we cook at home. With only 5 ingredients the tomato's genius lies not in what we do to it, but in how little it needs from us.
But simplicity doesn’t stop at raw preparations—it only deepens when heat enters the equation.
If I've got a few tomatoes lying around, I do what most people would: sauté them with olive oil, garlic and shallot, then decide whether they're destined for pasta, soup or pizza. All are delicious!
I have however been told off for my quick pasta sauce making. When I lived in Italy back in 2012, I had the pleasure of sharing a kitchen with a few friendly Italian students, who were mortified at what I was doing and proceeded to demonstrate how you make an authentic, rich, luscious Pomodoro sauce. And the trick is, hours and hours of simmering on a low heat, and sunkissed tomatoes of course! Aided by multiple glasses of red wine…for you, not the sauce.
Another recipe requiring hours of prep, is perhaps my proudest tomato achievement. During the pandemic, when everyone was perfecting their sourdough, my husband and I were perfecting tomato consommé.
We discovered Tommy Banks’ recipe for seasonal tomatoes topped with frozen shaved goat’s cheese and a tomato consommé, and just had to try it. Watching the clear juices from our blended tomato mix drip slowly through a muslin cloth, tied precariously to one of our kitchen cabinet door handles, I realised that this was either going to be 4-5 hours of my life I wasn’t going to get back or the best spent 4-5 hours of my life. Thankfully it was the latter, and the result wasn't complexity for complexity's sake - it was simply a more concentrated expression of tomato.
I think it’s a bit mad to spend hours on a Sunday evening writing about a fruit, but I don’t think I’m alone in my love for The Simple Tomato.
Substack is full of articles celebrating their existence, and Brits apparently spend £921 million a year on tomatoes. And it’s easy to see how! This weekend, my mother and I came very close to spending £7 on a very large beef tomato from a farm shop! I’m sure it would’ve been £7 well spent though, alas we’ll never find out.
It's strange to think that us Europeans actually once existed without tomatoes. No gazpacho. No bruschetta. No salsa. No pappa al pomodoro. For centuries we got by without them, and now it's difficult to imagine our plates without them.
Long may we keep them, and may the tomato serve as a reminder that simplicity is not the absence of greatness, but its most honest expression.
