I am sat in my good friend Marco’s kitchen, munching my way
through countless tomatoes. These home grown scarlet gems are bursting with
flavour, sealed under their skin the minerals of the volcanic soils of Padova,
supplemented by a compost of finest Italian espresso coffee grains. Marco’s
mother has worked her parcel patiently so that by the time the first blushes of
red appear on their swelling cheeks, she is safe in the knowledge that her hard
work has paid off.
The rewarding fruit of labour, but for those with less time
and skill to grow their own, what are our options? A tomato from the isles of
the British supermarket is often resistant to the teeth, only to be followed by
flavourless, almost grainy flesh. In the countries of the Med, the flavour is
naturally finer owing to the more reliable ripening of the sun, over the heated
greenhouses of Holland. Paying more for exported Italian tomatoes then?
Reading an article by Rosella Anitori in La Repubblica
however, reveals that blood, sweat and tears are also important ingredients for
a tasty tomato. “Each summer in Puglia (the heel of Italy), 800 seasonal
workers of African origin lead a gold rush to villages. Here they earn 20euros
per day to pick tomatoes working 10 hours non stop”. Conditions mirror those of
vulnerable migrant labourers described by Steinbeck in 1930s US, where exploitation
results in maximum profits but at the expense of human dignity.
And what of home grown in the city? Could a tomato from the
centre of a city beat those of an industrial greenhouse? On the roofs of
AgroParisTech, France’s leading Agronomics School, my friend Baptiste Grard is
undertaking a project to assess productivity and pollution levels of tomatoes
grown on a rooftop garden. I was allowed to taste one of these urban edibles,
and sure enough, the work of selecting the best mix of compost (all made from
the city of Paris’ organic waste), of tending to the plants, and choosing the
best mix of veg has paid off.
The taste of a tomato is defined not only by its providence
then, but by the work put into it’s maturity, and the same can be said for much
of the food we eat. The proof of a cared-for crop is revealed in its taste.
