Oct 23, 2020 3 min read

The box has been loitering on the kitchen island for going on two weeks now, ever since the day the farmer went to the garden to bring tomato season to a close.

And what a season it was. From late July through August and halfway into September we had tomatoes. The farmer’s plants reached 8 feet high before bending over the fencing and tangling themselves with the tomato plants climbing the other side. Every day around noon I’d wander out there with a big bowl and pluck all the ripe ones. We had several varieties: golden yellow, deep purplish-brown and, of course, red.

Tomatoes dotted the kitchen counters, inspiring meals of pasta, omelettes, pizzas and salads. My favorite afternoon snack was toasted bread with goat cheese and a slice of tomato. I never grew tired of that. I could go for one for an evening snack right now, actually.

But ripe tomato season is done, having stalled mid-September before producing a last gasp of a bit of ripe fruit and then giving up altogether. The farmer took that big box out to the garden and harvested all the tomatoes that ran out of warm weather, sunshine and time.

Now, we have a box of dozens of green tomatoes. There it sits, mocking my lack of imagination and cooking skills. What do I do with all of them?

During the lull between ripening, I took a bag of the green tomatoes to my neighbor. I’d been sharing the ripe tomatoes all summer and suspected she might be the kind of person who knows what the green ones are good for, too. When I asked if she wanted a second round, she declined.

A coworker suggested I pickle and can the green tomatoes, but that would be so unlike me.

This topic is probably making you think of a movie. “Fried Green Tomatoes” was a southern story that came out in 1991 and starred Kathy Bates. I don’t remember much about the plot, but I do remember it making me hungry for the dish, which I’d not tasted then – nor since.

Turns out there are a lot of things you can do with green tomatoes other than frying them. There’s relish, chutney, bread, salsa, soup, green tomato pie, and certain southern condiments called Chow Chow and Tom Tom.

With some time on my hands and nothing planned for dinner, I decided to pick some of the less funny-looking tomatoes out of the box and give them a whirl. But the recipe calls for cornmeal and, really, who keeps that in the pantry, so that ended that.

It was time for a backup plan: I would force the green to go red. According to science (or maybe folklore; we’ll see), if you put green tomatoes into a paper bag with a banana, the tomatoes will ripen. It’s been three days and the last time I peeked in there, I was seeing a bit of pink. At this rate, it might be next summer before I see a red home-grown tomato again.

In the meantime, a lot of green tomatoes are still sitting there. Without having tried them, I suspect fried green tomatoes taste a bit like fried zucchini, or fried pickles, or anything else that starts tangy and then gets all oily and crunchy.

I shall put cornmeal on my shopping list, in case I decide to give the recipe a try. But really, that would be so unlike me.