JERSEY FRESH
Fruit or vegetable? In 1893 the status of the tomato was brought into question by a New Jersey farmer, because of an exporting tax imposed on vegetables only. Botanically speaking, the tomato is technically a large berry, the pulpy, juicy fruit of a leafy vine. However, in March of 1893, the Supreme Court declared that, legally speaking, the tomato is officially considered a vegetable because of the understanding in contemporary vernacular as well as its savory qualities and presence in main courses rather than desserts.
One hundred and thirteen years later, in March of 2006, the tomato was officially declared as the State Vegetable of New Jersey. This legal proclamation came long after the tomato was already well established as the glowing crown jewel in the Garden State’s produce regimen. Regardless of where they originated, almost all Americans have heard of the legendary “Jersey Tomato.” Surprisingly, there are no specific parameters that define what is or is not a Jersey tomato; it is remarkably unclear why the garden state varieties are so vastly superior. Some say it is the soil, but that cannot be the consistent factor because the southern half of the state has a very sandy soil texture whereas the northern counties boast of a clay based variety. Another theory is the proximity of the Atlantic ocean as salt water is theorized to improve the taste of tomatoes when introduced to the plant after two weeks of growth. However, New Jersey only occupies a very small stretch of the Atlantic coast, not nearly enough to claim precedence over the other east coast states.
Despite the lack of substantial proof, there is no denying the distinction of a summer Jersey Fresh. More than botanical techniques, what defines the Jersey tomato is the perfect balance of sweetness and acidity. Juicy and flavorful, a true Jersey tomato can be easily recognized by any of the states proud residents. What New Jersey has that other tomato growing states lack is an intangible quality mysteriously cloaked in pride, tradition, and a knowledgeable, discerning palate.
Naysayers, specifically out-of-state tomato farmers, brush away any explanation and often neglect to purvey due respect. For some inexplicable reason, New Jersey doesn’t have the greatest reputation amongst the 50 states. In fact, there is often an open hostility directed toward the small state. When one declares, “I’m from Jersey” the responses range from the stereotypical “Doity Joisey, eh?” (even though nobody in New Jersey actually speaks that way) to the straight up obnoxious, “New Jersey? Ha. I’m sorry.” Well, you should be sorry. Because there is something about the little stretch of land wedged between New York, Pennsylvania, and Delaware that inspires outsiders to attack and locals to fiercely defend. There is a loyalty stemming from traditions that make all natives, from the industrial north to the piney south, extremely proud to call New Jersey home.
Despite false stereotypes and prejudices, New Jersey is first and foremost the Garden State and even the harshest critics can’t deny the quality of a Jersey Fresh tomato, found no where else.
South Jersey is the primary location for tomato production. Driving around suburban roads it is common place to pass several busy fruit and vegetable stands on street corners, and equally common to see yards brimming with foliage nursed by amateur green thumbs. As far as vegetable gardens go, tomato plants are an unequivocal staple, even for the most novice gardener. They just want to grow in New Jersey, and people of all ages and walks of life can appreciate the satisfaction of a homegrown tomato. WIth its tender red flesh and pulpy interior teeming with savory juices, the tomato is as tantalizing to the eyes as it is to the taste buds. In fact, in the mist of a New Jersey garden, not a single sense escapes the seductive air of the fresh summer tomato ready to be plucked from its entanglement of prickly vines.
I learned this at a young age. When I was three years old one of my first chores was to help my grandfather pick the ripened tomatoes from his well tended garden. Almost every afternoon, under the hot and high summer sun, we would walk the length of the grass to the far corner of the lawn, toting a wicker basket larger than my own toddling stature. Once there, my grandfather would explicitly remind me of our mission: to find the newly reddened specimens and to hold them gently while twisting them away from the vine, never pulling. Even as a bumbling toddler, I understood the blasphemy of bruising the fragile fruit with a harsh touch.
I entered the leafy jungle, and the scintillating world of the garden immediately consumed me. Even during playtime, I found myself drawn to the wood lined patch of dirt. I crawled into the shady center entirely hidden by the towering vines. Searching the darkest crevices, I would find a glowing specimen and twist it gently from its lush barricade and carelessly bite into the hot, juicy flesh. Dirt on face and tomato in hand, I would sit watching the neighbors’ horses graze in the summer heat, contented in my personal paradise.
Years later, little has changed. My grandfather grows his tomatoes at home, at work, and at our vacation house at the Jersey shore with a fastidious attention to their maintenance. Every year, he shares his bounty with friends and co-workers, but the choice specimens go straight to the kitchen, eaten as the zesty half of a lettuce and tomato sandwich or even earning the distinction of becoming the base for the best marinara sauce in the world. Even the finest global cuisine cannot inspire the culinary delight found in the fresh tomato-based meals, grown by my grandfather and assembled by my grandmother.
Many people would balk at the idea of a sandwich without meat, but in my family we appreciate our produce and the tradition becomes as much a part of you as the sandwich particles themselves. Food has a power that few other mediums possess. Its intrinsic link to life, emotion, and nostalgia make it a subject with infinite depth and potential. Tomatoes whether hot off the vine, processed into ketchup, chopped into salsa, or diced and spiced into sauce atop a steaming bed of linguini, play a significant role in almost every family’s history regardless of nationality or economic status. Few other foods bridge cultural divides the way a tomato can thanks to its versatility and savor.
In addition to its palatable delight the tomato boasts of many heath benefits stemming from Lycopene, the efficacious antioxidant that gives it its alluring red hue. Lycopene acts internally by inactivating free radicals which attack and damage cells in the body. Several studies show that consuming lycopene reduces the risk of heart disease, diabetes and several cancers including: prostate, lung, stomach, breast, and cervical. Although it can be found in other reddish foods such as watermelon and pink grapefruit, tomatoes are, by far, the greatest source of dietary lycopene. It is especially beneficial in processed tomato products such as juice, sauces, and ketchup. The fat found in these products aid in the absorption of lycopene by the body.
The undeniable heath benefits of the tomato just further add to its already impressive resume and offer another justification for indulging. But any true Jersey girl needs no excuse or further motivation because, to us, tomatoes are not just another food but a life force. They become as much a part of the body and soul as the air we breath.
In New Jersey the air that sustains us carries with it a tomato bouquet. Its not the smell of the tomatoes themselves but rather their overall essence. Savory and herb-like the fragrance is coupled with the sweet smell of dirt and the occasional fallen gem leaking its sweet juices back into the earth. The sense of smell is most often linked with memory and recall. To this day, stepping into the garden, my olfactory senses take me back to a wonderful world reminiscent of my grandfather, of home, of daydreams and make believe, of learning and trying, and of finding the sublime in the ordinary. Sitting in the garden, watching the horses, I'm proud to call myself a Jersey Girl, born and raised.
© 2010 Elizabeth DuPree
