Lindsay Marie Morris

Tomatoes have become almost synonymous with Italy, but they had a long, incredible journey before they reached European plates. 

It's a topic that fascinated writer Clarissa Hyman, whose book Tomatoes: A Global History charts the origins of this vibrant and juicy fruit while covering topics such as tomato varieties, breeding and genetics, nutrition, and tomatoes in art. It also includes tomato recipes.

 

Clarissa, who previously published Cucina Siciliana, a "cook's tour" of Italy's largest island, got her start as a TV producer, working on factual programs, documentaries, educational programs, and adult education. 

She isn't Sicilian (or Italian, for that matter), but she's earned a reputation and awards for her skills in marrying food writing with lessons in history. At the heart of all of her works is a sense of curiosity and wonder: Just how did these foods make their way to global cuisine?

 

I recently had the chance to chat with Clarissa about tomatoes. We discussed the tomato's origins, the ways it spread, how the perception of the tomato has changed, and the fruit's influence on food and culture. 

 

 

Tell us how the tomato found its way to Europe.

I became fascinated by the Columbus Exchange, of which tomatoes were a part. I was also fascinated by what happened even earlier: how tomato seeds traveled from mostly Peru and the northern part of South America up towards Mexico. How did they get there? 

Once they got to Mexico, they found a home, a climate that really encouraged their growth and proliferation. Clearly, the Aztecs didn't seem concerned about whether or not they were going to be poisonous or inedible in some way, and they took to them very readily.

Franciscan Friar Bernardino de Sahagún wrote in a journal about all the different tomatoes he came across in Mexico. He went with the conquistadors as a missionary and wrote about hundreds of different sorts of tomatoes in different colors, sizes, shapes, and attributes. 

When I read what he wrote, I thought, "This is so sophisticated, this understanding of the tomato's potential and how diverse and varied it could be."

This is not something we think about in terms of the 16th century. We're very arrogant in our day and age about how advanced we are. But in fact, there's very little that's not been done before. So that very much engaged me. 

How the tomato actually got to Europe, to Spain, again, is another story in itself. How did the sailors and the ships actually transport these tomatoes? I mean, they were out to sea for such a long time, and tomatoes weren't going to last. So, did they dry them? Did they preserve them? Did they just take the seeds? 

I suppose anything that came from the Americas to Spain and Portugal was going to be precious in some way. It was going to be valuable; even if they didn't know just what that value was, you couldn't just throw it overboard. 

History is never simple. It never works on one track, or often, tracks run in parallel. 

Some explorers gave the royal families of Spain just about everything that they found. It was part of their job to bring everything over. Some people in the aristocracy were very interested in botanical things, cultivation, and horticulture, and they had beautiful gardens and skillful gardeners who were ready to experiment with plant things and see what happened. 

Once tomatoes started to grow, there were others who wouldn't eat them or weren't interested. But there were also some very poor people who were grateful to eat anything, even if it was going to be a little bit dodgy. They were prepared to give it a go if it was cheap and easy and grew well.

So, there were different roots for tomatoes becoming increasingly available in the marketplace in Spain. That's where it all started in terms of European consumption of tomatoes.

One of the main drivers of tomatoes being incorporated into European gastronomy and culinary culture was the monasteries and the friars and the priests, who had an amazing culinary dimension to their lives. A number of priests and monks wrote cookery books or recorded what they did in the kitchens of the monasteries. Because a lot of monks traveled around visiting different outposts of their particular order, they took this knowledge with them.

One of the main ways that tomatoes started to spread around the Mediterranean basin was through trade, but there were certainly other roots in religion. The Jewish communities took this vegetable knowledge with them, even when other people were still reluctant. 

 

Tell us about that reluctance.

It was very pervasive and lasted a long time. A lot of people thought, "Well, we know it's part of the nightshade family, so maybe it could be poisonous."

Early tomatoes were probably rather acidic and didn't really have the sweetness that was bred into them eventually. So they didn't like it. People didn't know what to do with it. I think a fear of poisoning really prevented its rapid adoption.

But bit by bit, people became a bit more adventurous. It's so interesting how gardeners have been able to improve plants and turn them into something a bit more palatable, as well as cross-breed and encourage certain characteristics. 

There are always a few brave souls somewhere who are going to try something new and radical and say, "Hey, look, I'm still standing. I ate a tomato."

 

How did tomatoes return to the Americas?

The technological advance of canning again gave a huge impetus to how tomatoes could then spread back to the Americas in the form of tin tomatoes. And it was, again, the whole story of Italian tomatoes and Italian-American communities, which is a big story on its own because the canning came from a time when a lot of Italians emigrated to America at the end of the 19th century. There were a lot of Italian producers and merchants in Italy who saw that they could supply the Italian immigrants, particularly on the East Coast, with some of the foods that they remembered from their homelands, and tomatoes came full circle.

However, there was also another route for tomatoes to become so popular in North America: people planted tomatoes or took tomato plants from Central America and Mexico up to California and Louisiana, often through the missions in California or through the French influence in Louisiana.

Tomatoes were found to flourish in those more northern regions. And so that was another route, helped by the development of the railways, which could transport fresh tomatoes.

 

How have tomatoes influenced global cuisine?

You certainly can't think of pasta without tomato sauce or a pizza without tomato sauce in some way. 

The influence of tomatoes on global cuisine is incalculable. Where would we be without tomatoes? I can't think of a cuisine or a culture that doesn't use tomatoes in some important way now, which is extraordinary when you think the world ate perfectly well before the Columbus Exchange took place. And certainly in Europe, North America, and Asia, I mean, there was a very good diet. There's a very good culinary culture in virtually every country in the world without a tomato. So it's really quite extraordinary, the power that the tomato has had to transform virtually all our lives. And I think it's because it's something that can be consumed in so many different forms, and it's worked its way into lots of different aspects of our life for good or bad. 

You can think of some hideous tomato things: tomato-flavored crisps and even tomato ice cream. But overall, tomatoes have been a force for good when it comes to the food on our plates.

I don't mean to say every dish we eat has a tomato in it or is tomato-connected. Of course not. But it's such an integral part of our lives now. It's very hard to imagine it not being there. Certainly, when it comes to Italian food, it's a marriage that has lasted for a very long time in terms of pasta and pizza.

 

What are some varieties unique to Sicily?

There is a variety called Siccagno that grows in western Sicily that isn't watered. Any moisture comes from rain. They are the most amazing-tasting tomatoes. Then, there is a place in eastern Sicily where a very tiny tomato called Pachino is grown virtually on the beach in very sandy soil. They say they get their flavor from the sea, somehow from the aromas of the saltwater. The winds and the waves somehow infuse these tomatoes, and they're brilliant.

The Sicilians really appreciate different varieties and sizes and understand their uses. Some tomatoes are just for use in a sugo, and some tomatoes can be eaten in a salad with a little bit of oil.

 
Pachino tomatoes photo by Salmassara

You've mentioned that one shouldn't refrigerate tomatoes.

I met an Italian tomato grower, and he said to me, "You English are terrible. I really can't believe it. You murder your tomatoes."

I said, "What do you mean by murder? How do you murder a tomato?"

He said, "You always put them in the fridge. That's the worst thing you can do with a tomato."

He said the cold destroys all the flavor and aroma. He said he'd never forget going to an English home. He went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and saw half a tomato wrapped in cling film. And he said his heart nearly stopped. 

He said that in Italy, you buy a tomato and eat it. You don't leave it in the fridge for a week until you're ready to eat the rest of it.

 

So I tell everyone that if they've got tomatoes in the fridge, take them out.  

 

What do you hope people take away from your research?

It's such a fascinating story and one that is so largely unknown. It's actually a little miracle, a little red round miracle, and we should respect it a lot more than we do. 

 

>>Get Tomatoes: A Global History here!<<

 

 

 
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In the wake of the popular series From Scratch and season two of The White Lotus, Sicily's having its moment as a destination. But that wasn't always the case. Little was known of the region in the U.S.—except for its ties to organized crime and mobster movies. 

Writer and native New Yorker Mary Taylor Simeti had a different view. Living in Palermo and working on her husband's family farm, she sought to share insights into the island's sacred festivals, colorful residents, and vibrant produce.  

The result, On Persephone's Island: A Sicilian Journal, transported to a whole new world, rich with introspection into what it means to be both a foreigner and a resident on Italy's largest island.

Mary spoke to me about the challenge of publishing such a book in the 1980s. Thankfully, the former regular contributor to the New York Times and Financial Times persisted and followed up with Pomp and Sustenance, the first English-language Sicilian cookbook.

 

Read on for our chat about the fascinating history of Sicily's food and how, at Bosco Falconeria, she and her husband paved the way for the island's certified organic farming movement. 

 

 

Tell me about your background.

Well, I am American-born and grew up mostly in New York City. But as soon as I finished college, I came to Sicily to work as a volunteer for Danilo Dolci, who had a center outside of Palermo for development work. Sicily was still extremely poor, and there was still a lot of bomb damage and other damage from the war and also from centuries of invasion and exploitation. I meant to stay for a year. I've been here now; well, it'll be 62 years next month.

 

Where in Sicily are you?

I started out in Partinico, and then I spent 25 years in Palermo. And then we moved out once our children had finished high school in Palermo and were off studying elsewhere. We moved out to my husband's family farm, which is halfway between Palermo and Trapani, which is the westernmost point of Sicily.

 

What drew you to Sicily, and why did you stay?

Well, what drew me was the possibility of doing volunteer work with a development organization. This was 1962. It was the period of the big period of the Peace Corps. I didn't want to join the Peace Corps. I wasn't sure that I wanted to work as a representative of the American way of life. I thought everybody was entitled to their own way of life. I thought I wasn't going to stay very long, but I met my husband, I married him, and we thought we were going to be traveling around the world.

 

He was an agronomist (an agrarian economist), and he had applied to the FAO. We imagined a sort of itinerant life in the developing world with our basis here in Sicily. But then, two years after we were married, his oldest brother, who was running what was left of the family farm and taking care of the aging parents, died very suddenly. And we were left holding the bag, so to speak, and it became a passion. We were reluctant in the beginning but very glad in the end. The whole thing is, my whole life has been sort of serendipous. It's not planned.

 

How has your perspective on Sicilian culture evolved since you first arrived?

I was a medieval history major in college. And so I knew that sort of Sicily. I knew very little about modern Sicily. I came with curiosity, and I had the good luck to work together for a couple of years with an American anthropologist who was also volunteering at the center. She gave me tools to read what I was seeing. I don't think I had a very clear idea in the beginning, but I was open to finding out. 

I didn't have a stereotype. Sicily was off the charts those days. People, it was considered a black hole of mafia and poverty and dried out wheat fields. I mean, a lot of people didn't have any idea of the enormous cultural heritage that is. And still, when my first book, On Persephone's Island, was published in 1986, the first editor I talked to about it in New York said to me, "Well, of course, you realize nobody wants to read the book about Sicily, but I like this idea… Why don't you develop that?" I said, well, I'm not interested in developing that. I'm interested in writing about Sicily. And I went elsewhere. I was lucky, but I managed to find people who were curious.

 

What was your goal with On Persephone's Island?

Well, I had always loved writing, but I had this feeling that I couldn't write a book about Sicily unless it were a definitive work, and it was obviously beyond me. I don't think there's anybody who could do the definitive work on Sicily because it's such an ancient and multifaceted place and culture. But I started writing the book because I had been asked to accompany a group of alumni from my American college around Sicily. Though I wasn't prepared to be an art history guide, I started telling people about what they were seeing in the fields, what was growing, how it was used, and how it was harvested. A lot of information that I had gained simply by living on a farm and because of what my husband did, but information that's not included in guidebooks. And I discovered that people were really interested. 

 

What unique aspects of Sicilian cooking have you shared over the years with your books?

Well, for one thing, its antiquity. I mean, it is fusion cooking over the millennia, basically because it was conquered many, many times. What are considered the indigenous people of Sicily were not. People were living here at the end of the Ice Age. 

There were three different peoples that came in: The Greeks came, and then the Romans came, and the Phoenicians were already here. Then, the Arabs came in and took over Sicily in the ninth century, and they were kicked out by the French Norman, a small colonizing force of roving knights. The Normans built a magnificent civilization that synthesized the great works of Norman architecture, the cathedrals, called the Arab-Norman Cathedrals, which have a combination of recycled Greek or Roman sculptures and mosaics from the Byzantine with Arab motifs. And they were glorious mixtures of all these traditions. And then we had the French, and then we had the Spanish, and then we had the Northern Italians, and so forth and so on. It goes on and on and on. Each of these people brought in not only new ideas and new art forms but also new plants and new vegetables and new fruits and new methods of cooking them. 

 

How was Sicilian cuisine influenced by its diverse historical rulers and cultures?

I do know that in a cave, in a cavern on the western shore of Sicily, they've found lentils, chickpeas, and farro, which were developed in Anatolia and the Mesopotamian Highlands around 10,000 B.C. So people came and brought with them the foodstuffs. The known prehistoric peoples that came to Sicily were probably eating much the same basic diet as the Greeks. 

One of the things that has determined Sicily's importance in history and how things have played out is the fact that it is mostly volcanic, extremely fertile soil. It's a big island. It's the biggest island in the Mediterranean, has a very central position, and very, very fertile soil yields much greater than anything the Greeks had ever seen in Greece, for example. Whereas classical Greece was praising the "Golden Mean" moderation of all things in terms of food. That was an invention of necessity. They couldn't indulge enormously because they didn't grow enough food. 

One of the reasons for Greek colonization across the Mediterranean was the search for new sources of food. When they got to Sicily, they went a bit wild and started developing a very elaborate cuisine. The first cookbook in the Mediterranean world was written in Syracuse, and the first school for professional chefs was in Syracuse. There are certain traits that are still very common that come from the Greeks, such as the use of dried currents together with pine nuts, which is often attributed to the Arabs but was in the Roman cookbooks, which were, in turn, inspired by the Sicilian chefs.

Sicily is famous for its pastry traditions, and there are two very different traditions. One is the simpler cakes and biscuits, and very often with a fig filling using sesame seeds, but the Greeks sweetened with either honey or had vincotto, a boiled-down grape must.  

When the Arabs came, they brought cane sugar, which arrived in Europe first through Sicily and then through Muslim Spain. It gave a much wider range of possibilities because it crystallized and remained crystallized, which honey or vincotto didn't. 

They brought in almond paste, and they brought in crystallized fruit, and together, with the sugar, a whole tradition that became in the 12th and 13th centuries an important economic export of Sicily, famous for the sweet stuff that they sent north.

Then, they brought in new vegetables. They brought in the artichoke as we know it today, probably the lemons and certainly the bitter orange. The eggplant was brought by the Arabs, but whether they came here first or whether it came back here later from Spain with the Spanish Muslims is a question.

The Arabs were the first people to bring in and produce dried pasta as we know it today. The Romans had things they did with wheat and water that were similar, but the idea of a dried thing that you then boil came here thanks to the Arabs. 

 

Tell me about your farm, Bosco Falconeria.

It's on the edge of the boundary between the territory of Partinico and the territory of Alcamo. But it's an area in which most of the land belongs to people from Alcamo. 

This piece of it was bought by my husband's grandfather in 1930. So it is close to a hundred years we've been here. My husband and I rebuilt the farmhouse, which was not in good shape but was quite badly damaged in the 1968 earthquake. And we used the government subsidies for earthquake damage to rebuild the frame of the house.

My husband's grandfather was a wine merchant maker. The wine that was made here on the farm was wine that came not only from his own grapes, but in that era, this was an area of small farms; there were no cooperative wine cellars. So, the small peasant with a few acres of vineyards was at the mercy of a middleman who would charge him outrageously high interest on the money. They advanced him so that he could get through the next year's cultivation. 

 

My husband's grandfather was a wonderful man, and he loaned money to anybody who asked him without ever charging any interest. So he had a fairly good-sized clientele; people who came brought him their grapes. The wine was made here and stored here. And then most of it was taken down in barrels, mounted on Sicilian carts, to the port, where there were the warehouses of the big vermouth companies. Because in those days, most Sicilian wine was not table wine. It was a very strong wine that was used either to make vermouth or was sold in Europe to be taken to Northern Europe to bring up the alcoholic content of the much weaker northern wines.

The alcoholic content of wine depends on how much sun the grapes get. It's the sun that brings out the sugar content, and in northern climates, wines tend to be much lower in sugar content and, therefore, less stable. The stronger the wine, the better it keeps and the better it ages.

So that's what Sicilian wines were: mostly really strong stuff still. The big transformation of the Sicilian wine industry started in the seventies, and now almost all the wine I think that's produced here is table wine. Some of it's still pretty undrinkable, but most of it is really excellent. The wine picture has changed totally since I've been here.

 

Aside from wine grapes, what else do you grow?

We have olives, we have table grapes, and we have avocados, which are a novelty here. We have a small mixed citrus orchard. We sell some grapefruit and some oranges, but mostly, they are for family consumption in one way or another. And we don't do much in the way of vegetables anymore. We used to, but they're so labor-intensive.

 

We went organic before there was organic certification in Italy in the second half of the 80s. And in the beginning, it was worth it. Even though we had to pay a lot in labor costs, it was worth our while to produce organic vegetables because there weren't that many producers of organic vegetables. Nowadays, there's a lot of organic produce in Sicily, more than any other region in Italy.

 

You've written six books. What do you hope readers take away?

Well, in the beginning, I really wasn't thinking about that. I was just hoping that there were some people out there who might be interested in things that I found so interesting about Sicily. I was first told nobody wanted to read about Sicily. And then, when I told my editor I wanted to do a history of Sicilian cuisine, she said, "Oh, is there one?" And Pomp and Sustenance was the first book in English on Sicilian cooking. Americans, for a long time, didn't even realize that there was anything more essential than the difference between the white cuisine of Milan and the red cuisine of Naples.  

 

In the beginning, it was simply to talk about the things that were interesting here and hope I could pay back Sicily for all it's given to me. I felt like a self-appointed ambassador.

I've had so many beautiful letters from people who say, "You gave me back childhood recipes my grandmother used to cook." That has been totally unexpected but very, very rewarding.

 

 

 

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