I have hated tomatoes as long as I can remember. Even as a child I cursed the name of that imp from hell who decided tomatoes should go on everything: cheeseburgers, salads, sandwiches, pizza — all ruined by this filthy vegetable. If a tomato touched one leaf of my salad, I didn’t just disregard that particular leaf, I jettisoned the entire quadrant. If there was only one pizza to be eaten, and every single piece had a slice of tomato on it, I would grab one and use my napkin to wipe that mother down until the crust showed. In college I tried to eat a cherry tomato at a party and wound up dry heaving in front of a bunch of hot chicks. Hell, even at 2am — drunk as tits and baked like a cake — I would still pick the tomato chunks out of my Taco Bell. I haaaaaaaaaated tomatoes. HATED THEM.
It’s wasn’t just the taste, and it’s wasn’t just the texture; it was the one-two punch of taste and texture. I mean, tapioca pudding has about the same mouthfeel as fish eggs and glue, but it tastes awesome. And Brussels sprouts taste like straight up poison, but they feel like baby cabbages dying inside your mouth, so they’re kinda fun. No, tomatoes ruined my day in every way they possibly could; by tasting like bloody, organic battery acid with the texture of jellied eyeballs wrapped in foreskin. God dammit! What a perfectly engineered adversary!
But in order to truly hate something, you have to be at least a little bit afraid of it, right? Isn’t that how loathing works? I honestly don’t know what tomatoes ever did to me to earn such scorn, but it must have been awful. Like, in some alternate universe, I’m probably stuck on a planet populated entirely by tomato people, and they just love to smear themselves across my naked body all day long and then fart in my mouth. It’s how they celebrate Christmas.
The point is, I’ve avoided tomatoes my entire life… until now. This past summer, I finally decided to get serious and shake hands with the red devil. And it’s not just because I moved to Germany; it’s because my wife and I live in a house with an actual yard in the back, giving us enough space to have a garden where we can grow our own vegetables. Oh, I know what my fellow tomato haters are thinking about now: “Here comes the part where you tell us fresh, vine-ripened tomatoes are different from every other tomato we’ve ever eaten. And that is stone-cold bullshit.”
You’re right; if you really can’t stand the sumbitches, it won’t matter where you get ’em. Do you know how many times my friends and family members have told me that if I just ate this one, special, super organic, jerked-off-by-Mexicans, magic tomato, it would change my attitude forever? Millions. Okay, not millions — probably closer to 5 or 6 times — but still. I understand your pain.
I’ve tried to like tomatoes. I wanted to stop fighting the good fight, but I just couldn’t do it. They were too gross. Then my wife and I started a garden, and I made two decisions:
- I would eat one tiny piece of tomato every single day until I learned to like it.
- These tomato pieces would only come from our own garden, because that’s supposed to make them taste less horrid.
And that’s exactly what I did. I slowly acclimated myself to tomatoes like a sickly goldfish in hot water. At first I was like, “NOPE. THEY STILL SUCK. THIS SUCKS.” But gradually my knee-jerk reaction weakened. I stopped gagging and was able to actually chew and swallow small pieces of raw tomato. And you know what really made the difference? The fact that when I plucked a ripe tomato right from the vine in our own garden, brought it inside, cut it up and ate a piece, it tasted sweet. Sweet like sugar — I shit you not. I’d never experienced that before! Not even from fresh tomatoes picked in the exact same way and placed in front of me at a friend’s house. Eating my own tomatoes was the key, and it actually became a pleasant experience.
Another thing which really helped were my wife’s Caprese salads. She loves ’em, but I could only ever eat the mozzarella and basil before. Now, I eat the whole thing, and the best part — I can’t believe I’m saying this — is the tomato. It’s what really ties the dish together. I’ve even graduated to eating burgers and salads with tomatoes on them, and they don’t even have to come from our own garden! (God, I seriously feel like a heathen or a traitor to my country or something.)
I’m not saying tomatoes are the greatest thing in the world, but it’s really nice not to have to pull them off everything I order at a restaurant. It’s like I’ve been at war my entire life, and I’m just now experiencing my first ceasefire. I’m not fool enough to stick my head up out of my foxhole and declare my love for the enemy just yet, but I’m not going to snipe their commanding officer either.
To be fair, I still can’t bite down on a cherry tomato without a good old fashioned dry heave — oh my Christ, the seeds just spurt inside your mouth without warning, like a rude sailor — but maybe someday I’ll get there. Maybe. In the meantime, I must grudgingly award tomatoes with a slightly nauseous 3 out of 5 Merkel Diamonds:
Thank you for reading and have a great day!
— OGM
Oh God, My Wife Is German. 
Wish my relationship to spiders could be solved like that – but nope … no way … I am not eating a small piece of spider every day!
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Haw haw
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Funny rant. You have hated the tomato so much that you refused to acknowledge the fact that it’s a fruit and not a vegetable ;)
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I was wondering who would be the first to point that out.
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If the tomato is a fruit, you can distil their spirit. Like grape, apple, plum, cherry, …
I never heard of tomato- Schnaps. Neither of cabbage- Geist or sproutovitz.
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I have a ideosincratic classification system for myself: anything tasty is fruit, the other plants are vegetable.
So Pinapple definitely is fruit, Banana is a vergetable.
Potato fruit, carrots vegetable.
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Oh, I wish my dear husband could come to terms with the little red devils. Unfortunately the summer I did exactly what you did – planted tomatoes in our little garden – I planted too many, not realizing how many would survive. Then I went back to the US for three weeks right about the time they ripened. Now he not only hates the taste and texture of tomatoes, but he resents them, too because of the extra work they (I) caused him. Just in case, though, he tries one every year. Caprese salad…I could live on it. Yum!!
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Imagine you cultivate your own apples and distil you own Obstler.
Imagine you cultivate your own hemp!
Enjoy the delicacies of rural life…
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Totally.
God, I can just imagine trying to distill my own liquor. I’d blow our entire house up.
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I learned to like them by cutting them in slices and smothering them in salad dressing…moved on from there. But, I do have to agree with you about biting into a whole cherry tomato…squish! Gag…same reason I don’t like to bite into an oyster…super gaggers!!!
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BWAHAHAHA!!!
Awesome rant. But I have to admit that I am on the opposite side. I hate cheese. Hate it….DESPISE it.
Whoever decided that letting milk go off and then putting it in a mould should be taken outside and shot… With a blunt spoon to the ear.
Pizzas should be just a tomato base and meat. And Welsh Rarebit should be banned under the Geneva convention on Biological Warfare.
There… I said it.
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Haw haw! Well said, Kalamain.
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I feel this exact same level of repulsion to bananas. It’s a dick shaped fruit (Patriarchy? probably) that goes from solid to paste instantly. As if that wasn’t awful enough, the taste is disgusting. It’s mild yet can overpower any amount of other fruits in a smoothie. Loathsome.
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I can totally relate to the FIRST half of this story – without the tomato filled ending. My hatred runs really deep – no marinara sauce or ketchup for me! I do try tomato/tomato related products every now & then to see if I can stomach it, but nope I still heave. It is nice to know that a) I’m not alone & b) there *might* be hope!
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Took me awhile to get used to tomatoes too. Cutting them in slices and heaping salt and pepper helped. Now I like them in and on other food. The goopy part still grosses me out though.
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This is hilarious. I happen to LOVE tomatoes. Especially the heirloom tomatoes right off the vine. I wash them and eat them like an apple, except there is no core left when I am done. I can eat a whole tomato and love it. Texture, smell, feel, everything. But I respect you all here!
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This has been your best rant so far. Really. I am in awe.
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Nope. Never. Don’t you notice what’s going on? Your wife is trying to POISON you like women did at the beginning of the last century with arsenic. I bet you have a mutual life insurance where they will pay the FULL SUM if one dies to the survivor, but only two years after signing the contract. Check your insurance policies, I’m sure there’s something evil behind this whole gardening thing. And do it like me, only eat PROCESSED tomatoes, like in ketchup, that’s okay.
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Haw haw haw! I love it. Great comment.
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This was one of your best blog posts. I can totally relate in that I have kids who exactly feel as you do (did). Am sharing with them right now. Thank you for giving me one of the best laughs I’ve had all week amidst all the Christmas decorating and other related seasonal crap.
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That’s awesome, Sine! I’m so glad to hear it!
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I grew seven different heirloom tomatoes this year and still refused to eat any of them. Everyone thought it was pretty funny I was growing so many tomatoes but wouldn’t eat them!
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I love tomatoes. Here’s a disgusting little anecdote for you though. My grandparents used to grow the most spectacular tomatoes but wouldn’t eat them or give them to family members. They used to eat the “lower quality” tomatoes and distribute these “lower quality” tomatoes to the family and only sell the really good ones. Why? Profit? No. Because the really good big red ones only grew above the septic tank. :P
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Haw haw haw
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