Tomato Mania

A Chef’s Obsession

BY MICHAEL JOYCE | PHOTOS BY OLAF STARORYPINSKI

AS A KID IN THE SUMMERTIME, my Neopolitan grandma’s tomato salad was all I ate— and all I wanted to eat. It wasn’t particularly fancy, just tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, salt, and black pepper. Maybe she would add a dash of red wine vinegar or crushed oregano, but it was always served with toasted and buttered bread from DiRienzo’s bakery, the local haunt of choice for southern Italian immigrants in the Binghamton, New York, area. Thus was the birth of my tomato mania.

She’d cut the tomatoes into large chunks and dress them in a bowl. There, they would sit so the olive oil and tomato juices could mingle together forming this magical, scarlet elixir that my grandma insisted you dunk or ung your bread into. The flavor is etched into my memory.

No food has come to symbolize Campania— or Italy, for that matter—more than the humble tomato. My maternal great-grandparents were born in Naples, the cultural and political center of Campania, where tomatoes are deeply revered. Spanish merchants introduced tomatoes to Italy in the early 16^th century, but they remained virtually unknown for another 200 years.

This odd fruit brought back from the New World was viewed with apprehension, thought to be poisonous, and a harbinger of bad luck. It wasn’t until 1839 that the quintessential Neapolitan dish of spaghetti and tomato sauce was first mentioned in the book Cucina teorico-pratica (The Theory and Practice of Cooking) by Ippolito Cavalcanti. Against all odds, the tomato found an unlikely home in the rich, volcanic soil at the base of Mt. Vesuvius. It flourished and forever changed the culinary identity of a region.

The soil of the Lehigh Valley is a far cry from that of Campania. Regardless of where you plant them, tomatoes need a lot of TLC. They require an early start and constant attention, along with full sun, warm weather, and sufficient watering. Tomatoes are susceptible to a wide range of pests and diseases like the tomato hornworm and early blight. Finally, they need to ripen naturally on the vine before you pick them at just the right moment, and consume them shortly afterward. All this fuss is also what makes the tomato so special.

Tomato Rules and Practices

Furthermore, you must eat tomatoes in season and grown close to your home. This is a controversial statement, especially since the tomato season is so fleeting. It arrives in early July, explodes in August, and disappears with the first cold wind of fall. They grow rampantly; they are everywhere. You can’t force them on your friends fast enough. Life is consumed by tomatoes. (Maybe that feels dramatic, but tomatoes are dramatic.)

Over the years, I have prepared tomatoes in every imaginable way. I have tried re-creating my grandmother’s simple tomato salad into complicated haute cuisine, often to less effect. Smoked tomato purée, clarified tomato water, fermented green tomatoes — all attempts to hold onto those childhood flavors. To no avail, really. Yet during the summer, tomatoes appear in almost everything I cook. My tomato consumption feels so reckless that by the end of September, I never want to see one again. Well, until next year.

The Birth of Tomato Mania

One of my earliest cooking jobs was at a hyper-local restaurant, way before “farm-to-table.” This job exposed me to seasonal cooking and opened my eyes to even more vegetables. These included heirloom tomatoes, typically in all kinds of odd shapes and sometimes in a psychedelic tie-dye of colors. Not to mention different flavors. Crates of tomatoes would be dropped off in the morning bearing names that often lent a clue to their origin. Cherokee Purple. Green Zebra. Radiator Charlie’s Mortgage Lifter.

There were also the small yellow Garden Peach tomatoes with a fuzzy skin, Amish Paste (descendants of the noble San Marzano), and the small but complex Black Cherries. Marone! That restaurant also introduced me to the courageous souls who grew them, thereby spawning my lifelong respect for and dialogue with farmers.

One of those farmers is Wayne Miller of Epic Acre Farm in Mertztown. In recent years, Miller has been my dealer for all things tomato (and peppers). He is always pushing me to try “free” samples. Unsurprisingly, I become hooked on them and then can’t stop thinking about them.

It’s no surprise, however, considering his tomato pedigree. Like a lot of people, Miller sort of fell into the farming life. While working on an English degree at Kutztown University, he applied for seasonal work at Eckerton Hill Farm. After four years of harvesting tomato and peppers (and more) under the tutelage of head farmer/owner Tim Stark, Wayne decided to jump in full time.

In the early aughts, Eckerton Hill and Tim Stark became well-known in New York City’s fine-dining scene and the preferred source for chefs. Eckerton held a regular spot at the Union Square farmers market and wholesale accounts with restaurants like Daniel and Gramercy Tavern. Wayne remembers selling tomatoes to “3-star chefs” and feeling like “rock stars at the market.” (Tim also authored a book detailing his life as a tomato farmer in Heirloom: Notes from an Accidental Tomato Farmer.) Miller worked for 10 years at Eckerton Hill before settling on his own property in the same valley as his mentor. These days, he farms a diversified mix of perennial and annual crops, with a heavy focus on tomatoes and peppers.

Tomato Farmers Have Tomato Mania, Too

I recently sat down with Miller among the 700 or so tomato plants at his Epic Acre farm in Berks County. He explained that for a small market farm, yield is very important. Typically, “a tomato plant produces a lot of fruit” and you need to pick them every other day. They monopolize precious harvest time. For three months, he says you have “tomatoes just coming out of your ears.” He said their bittersweet departure leaves him “almost manically depressed.” We shared a laugh.

The conversation turned to our favorite ways to cook and eat tomatoes. Wayne described his fondness for a Pennsylvania Dutch specialty: “slice of scrapple, both sides nice and crispy, fat slice of heirloom tomato, and then a little bit of hot sauce.” When I shared my enthusiastic admiration for the BLT, we agreed that it is the ultimate way to enjoy a summer tomato. Wayne described the constant search for the “biggest, fattest slicer” to make a BLT. The quest often led him to the aforementioned heirloom variety that descended from seeds saved by Ruby Arnold back in Greensville, Tennessee.

Heirloom plants, like Aunt Ruby’s German Green, are open-pollinated. This means that these old-time varieties come true from seed. And that allows you to save seed from your favorite plants each year for use in your garden the following season. According to Rodale’s Ultimate Encyclopedia of Organic Gardening, “Seed saving is an important way to perpetuate heirloom varieties that are in danger of becoming extinct.” But the practice also lets you select heirloom plants you like and that are “uniquely suited to your growing conditions.”

Heirlooms are also a tangible link to the past; some varieties are passed down in families for generations. Like the ornate silverware my grandmother saved for me, planting plum tomatoes in my tiny garden connects me to my Neapolitan heritage.

Editor’s Note: This BLT requires two recipes–the homemade mayo and the BLT itself. It’s worth the effort! You might remember we featured chef Mike Joyce in an earlier issue. He wrote the Cacio e Pepe fava bean recipe for us in our spring 2024 issue.

Ultimate BLT

Print Recipe Pin Recipe

Course Main Course

Cuisine American

Servings 1 BLT

Ingredients

  

• 4 slices smoked bacon
• 2 to 3 slices romaine lettuce
• 1 medium heirloom tomato
• Flaky sea salt, like Maldon
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 slices bread preferably a hearty whole wheat
• 2 tablespoons mayonnaise

Instructions

 

• Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Transfer the bacon to a sheet pan fitted with a metal rack and cook until bacon is crispy, about 15 to 20 minutes. Drain on a plate lined with paper towels.
• Remove 2 to 3 romaine leaves from the head. Wash in cold water and pat dry with a clean towel.
• Insert a sharp paring knife into the top of the tomato to remove the core. Then, gently push the knife down about ½-inch and cut around the hard core, using a circular motion angled into the tomato. Use the tip of your knife to lift the top of the tomato core out.
• Slice the tomato into 3 to 4 thick slices. Transfer to a paper towel to dry them slightly. Season liberally with sea salt and black pepper.
• Toast bread until golden brown.
• Spread a tablespoon of mayo on each slice of bread. Place 1 or 2 leaves of romaine on one slice of toast. Add tomato slices and top with bacon. Finally, add more romaine lettuce and the final slice of toast. Cut in half and serve with your favorite potato chips.

Keyword BLT, mayonnaise