Green vine
A transitional taste experience from summer to fall — the unripened tomato

September 22, 2004
 

The signs of fall have been with us for days, but today it is official. Just after noon, if I have figured this correctly, the sun crosses the celestial equator, heading south for the winter, and tipping us over into longer nights and shorter days.

To some poetic souls, that signals the melancholy end of summer, the final blaze of warmth and color before the frosty grays and whites of winter settle in. To the more prosaic among us it means a new school year, Halloween, basketball season, warm sweaters, campaign commercials and holiday shopping.

And then there are the FOOD PEOPLE. To us, naturally, the change in seasons heralds a change in menus. Time to say a regretful farewell to vine ripened tomatoes, fragrant basil, sweet berries and grilled meats and turn a hungry eye to the crisp apples, butternut squashes and slow braised stews of autumn.

But of course, seasonal change isn't anything as sudden as flipping a light switch; it is slow, inching, incremental. One step into cooler, brisker air, two steps back to balmy summer, a plunge into iciness. Seasonal change is like spiritual enlightenment; it's as much about getting there as being there.

Some fall foods are transitional like that too.

Like the green tomato. Sure it's just an unripe red tomato (at least, it is if you aren't dealing with a fancy heirloom like green zebra or Aunt Ruby's German Green), but in many ways, it is its own fruit. It belongs neither to summer nor fall, but rather to those in-between days when you wear a sweater in the chilly morning and are roasting by noon.

Sam would like them

To a northern girl, green tomatoes always sounded kind of weird — as appealing and amusing as Dr. Seuss' green eggs and ham. In fact, since I've been thinking about this column, the words to that childhood classic have been chasing through my head. I remember that I was once as reluctant to try green tomatoes as Sam's friend was to try green eggs and ham. Would I like them here or there? Would I like them anywhere?

(I thought not, but that's a sham. I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!)

Green tomatoes still (obviously) bring out the kid in me, even though I've come to like eating them a lot. I first learned to enjoy them in my early gardening days, when the official tomato season had ended and incoming frost warnings sent me scurrying to pick all the fruit on my plants before it was too late. Real southerners eat green tomatoes all season long but it is in the fall, when the ripening process slows to a crawl, that green tomatoes really come into their own.

The fried variety

The classic southern way to eat green tomatoes, of course, is fried, although there is no consensus on just how they should be prepared. Even Fannie Flagg, whose charming book Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café put them on the culinary map, provides two different recipes for them in the cookbook she wrote to follow the novel. The heavier, more complicated, version requires that the tomatoes be dipped in beaten eggs and buttermilk before being dredged in flour (some people even add a third stage, following up the flour dipping and egg wash with a final dunk in cornmeal or breadcrumbs before setting the tomatoes to fry in hot fat.)

I prefer my fried green tomatoes more like Flagg's lighter recipe — just dusted with cornmeal, salt and pepper and quickly fried. This gives a light, crispy coating for your teeth to crunch through, before they hit the hot, surprisingly sweet tomato within. My preference for the lighter version is not particularly virtuous — it allows the tomato flavor to shine through and, more importantly, since it's less filling you can eat more.

However you fry them, green tomatoes work round the clock. I've had them with grits and eggs (sorry, Sam — just the regulation yellow variety) for breakfast, as part of an unconventional BLT (with fresh basil and mozzarella) for lunch and as a topping for pasta tossed with olive oil and grated parmesan cheese for dinner. You can eat them covered with spicy salsa or milk gravy, with melted cheddar or fresh goat cheese, in a salad, with a vinaigrette, or dipped in ranch dressing, with vegetable succotash, grilled meats, or fixed in innumerable other ways. Once you develop a taste for them, fried green tomatoes are addictive.

Sweet possibilities

If you aren't into fried foods, you can always try your green tomatoes with some sugar (clearly southern cuisine doesn't really cater to the health conscious.) Although green tomatoes are much more acidy than they are sweet, they do surprisingly well in desserts. In cakes, pies, mincemeat, and jam, green tomatoes are set off by the same exotic, warming spices you'd put in other fall desserts — allspice, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and cloves. I tried making green tomato cake for this column just because it sounded so peculiar, but it turned out not to be odd at all — a sweet and crunchy tea cake, lovely eaten warm with whipped cream or butter.

As delicious as fried green tomatoes and sweet green tomato desserts prove to be, they don't really help with the essential end of summer tomato problem which is that you have too many of them on your hands. Fear not. Green tomato pickles, chow chow, relish, chutney and other tomato preserves will use up your supply and extend your tomato eating season clear round the calendar.

Pungent, sweet, tart, and spicy—how can you resist a green tomato? It is the season to be eating them whenever and wherever you can. And if you doubt me, remember Sam-I-Am's advice – "You do not like them. So you say. Try them! Try them! And you may."

Green Tomato Bread

This tea cake is a lot like zucchini bread — the vegetables don't stand out but give the cake moisture and texture.

1 cup oil

3 eggs, beaten

2 cups sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 cups pureed green tomatoes

3 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon cloves

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1 cup chopped walnuts

1 cup raisins

Confectioner's sugar

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Stir together oil, eggs, sugar, vanilla and green tomatoes. Sift together remaining ingredients. Add dry ingredients, stir in nuts and raisins. Pour batter into oiled bundt pan. Bake in 325 degree oven for 1 hour. Before serving, sift confectioner's sugar over top.

Recipe by Christine Barbour, compiled from various Internet sources.

Green Tomato Chutney

15 cloves garlic

4 teaspoons fresh ginger, grated

1 pound dark brown sugar

1 1/2 cups white vinegar

4 pounds of green tomatoes (DeGroot recommends 2 pounds of tomatoes, but my friend Carol Parks, who gave me the recipe, recommends 4. Otherwise it's more liquid than tomato.)

For the masala:

1 tablespoon salt

1 teaspoon whole black peppercorns

2 teaspoons whole caraway seeds

10 whole cardamom pods

1 teaspoon whole cloves

2 teaspoons whole coriander

2 teaspoons chili powder

Wash, shake dry, and coarsely chunk tomatoes into an enamel or other nonreactive pan. Chop fresh ginger over tomatoes, add brown sugar, and the vinegar. Stir with a wooden spoons and leave to blend while preparing the masala.

Mix masala ingredients except chili powder in a mortar or coffee grinder. After they are ground, mix in chili powder and blend the complete masala into the tomatoes.

Bring the heat up to simmering, stirring intermittently, and continue cooking, covered, until tomatoes are thoroughly soft, usually in 50 minutes to one hour. Stir every few minutes and, once tomatoes begin to get soft, do not be afraid to crush them lightly. When done, turn off heat and let pan cool to room temperature, then put chutney into pint mason jars, with a one-inch stick of cinnamon in each. Refrigerated, this chutney keeps for several months. Remove cinnamon stick if cinnamon flavor becomes too dominant.

From Roy Andries DeGroot, Feasts for All Seasons, Borzoi Books, 1966.

Fried Green Tomato, Mozzarella, and Basil 'BLTs'

(From Gourmet Magazine, September, 1995)

2 pounds green tomatoes (about 4 medium), cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices

1/2 cup yellow cornmeal

salt and pepper

1 pound sliced bacon, cooked until crisp, reserving 1/3 cup drippings, and drained on paper towels

4-8 large slices firm white sandwich bread

3/4 pound fresh mozzarella, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices

24 fresh basil leaves, washed well and spun dry

Preheat broiler.

In a small bowl coat 4 tomato slices evenly with cornmeal seasoned with salt and pepper. In a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet heat 1/4 cup reserved bacon drippings over moderate heat until hot but not smoking and cook tomatoes until golden brown on both sides, about 5 minutes, transferring them as cooked to paper towels to drain. Coat and cook remaining tomatoes in same manner, using additional drippings if necessary.

On a baking sheet broil one side of bread slices about 3 inches from heat until golden. Make sandwiches by layering mozzarella, basil, tomatoes, and bacon on toast (untoasted side up.) Serve open-faced, or top with second slice toast.

Makes four sandwiches.