Food Quest - Tomatoes
I do not care for tomatoes. For the past few months, however, I’ve been trying to change that.
Nearly everybody I know seems to love tomatoes. Maybe it’s the geographical region of the American southeast or some sort of confirmation bias since I don’t frequently ask people directly if they eat tomatoes, but I know many more people who eat tomatoes than those who do not. And this isn’t a matter of, “I’ll eat it, but I don’t really care one way or the other.” No, most of these people love some tomatoes. And they’ll rave about how much better fresh tomatoes are than store bought, and such.
I’ve tried tomatoes several times through my life, and I’ve never really cared for them. It isn’t really the taste. I’ll eat tomatoes cooked into stuff, or I’ll eat salsa provided it’s a more pureed consistency. It’s the texture that I don’t care for. The goopy innards of tomatoes remind me of the sort of semi-rotten thing that you might accidentally squeeze too hard and have it just fall apart in your hand. I realize that fresh tomatoes do have a much firmer consistency, but I just can’t seem to divorce that thought in my mind.
Lately, though, I’ve tried to approach tomatoes with a more open mind. To the best of my knowledge, it dates back to a Greenville Swamp Rabbits ice hockey game sometime in the 2017-2018 season. Given the tight schedule of getting home from work, packing the family in the car, and getting to our seats before puck drop, we usually would pick up fast food on the way.
This one particular game, we happened to go to Burger King, and I ordered a Whopper. Problem is, I forgot to tell them to hold the onions and tomato, my standard modification for any burger from a restaurant. When we got back on the road, I opened up the box or wrapper (I forget what Whoppers are served in, since I rarely order them) and realized my mistake. I would normally take the time to remove these unpleasantries from my burger before devouring it, but we were in a hurry and I couldn’t easily do that while driving. Deciding to bite the bullet (or burger, if you will), I started eating the Whopper exactly as it comes from the menu.
Honestly, it wasn’t awful. I could certainly tell that there was tomato and onion on the burger, but it was palatable. Maybe it was the combination of various other textures that made the tomato less noticeable, but I finally choked it down without removing any ingredients. The onion, in that instance, was much more off putting than the tomato.
Realizing that tomato is admittedly a healthy additive to a burger, and gives it more filler for a greater total volume, I decided that I would start keeping tomato on various sandwiches that I try from time to time. The onion was still a no-go, and I still ask for its removal in anything but onion rings. Tomato, though, because a little less evil.
I’m at the point now where I still don’t want a lot of tomato on a sandwich. For restaurants that include 2 slices, I’ll occasionally remove 1 so it isn’t quite as potent. And at Five Guys, I’ll even ask for tomato on my burger. Admittedly, all toppings at Five Guys are included with the price of the burger, so I’m not paying any extra for it, but it really is a pretty good addition.
Maybe one day, I’ll brave the fabled tomato sandwich. Two slices of white bread, a little mayonnaise on each, some salt and pepper, and a thick slice of fresh, home grown tomato. The thought still makes me gag somewhat, but I might eventually desensitize myself to the point that I can give it a shot.
There are few foods that I dislike, and tomato is gradually ceasing to be one of those. It has been a long journey of several months, but with some determination, I’m finding that I can train myself out of a long held grudge against the would-otherwise-be-ketchup fruit.
Nearly everybody I know seems to love tomatoes. Maybe it’s the geographical region of the American southeast or some sort of confirmation bias since I don’t frequently ask people directly if they eat tomatoes, but I know many more people who eat tomatoes than those who do not. And this isn’t a matter of, “I’ll eat it, but I don’t really care one way or the other.” No, most of these people love some tomatoes. And they’ll rave about how much better fresh tomatoes are than store bought, and such.
I’ve tried tomatoes several times through my life, and I’ve never really cared for them. It isn’t really the taste. I’ll eat tomatoes cooked into stuff, or I’ll eat salsa provided it’s a more pureed consistency. It’s the texture that I don’t care for. The goopy innards of tomatoes remind me of the sort of semi-rotten thing that you might accidentally squeeze too hard and have it just fall apart in your hand. I realize that fresh tomatoes do have a much firmer consistency, but I just can’t seem to divorce that thought in my mind.
Lately, though, I’ve tried to approach tomatoes with a more open mind. To the best of my knowledge, it dates back to a Greenville Swamp Rabbits ice hockey game sometime in the 2017-2018 season. Given the tight schedule of getting home from work, packing the family in the car, and getting to our seats before puck drop, we usually would pick up fast food on the way.
This one particular game, we happened to go to Burger King, and I ordered a Whopper. Problem is, I forgot to tell them to hold the onions and tomato, my standard modification for any burger from a restaurant. When we got back on the road, I opened up the box or wrapper (I forget what Whoppers are served in, since I rarely order them) and realized my mistake. I would normally take the time to remove these unpleasantries from my burger before devouring it, but we were in a hurry and I couldn’t easily do that while driving. Deciding to bite the bullet (or burger, if you will), I started eating the Whopper exactly as it comes from the menu.
Honestly, it wasn’t awful. I could certainly tell that there was tomato and onion on the burger, but it was palatable. Maybe it was the combination of various other textures that made the tomato less noticeable, but I finally choked it down without removing any ingredients. The onion, in that instance, was much more off putting than the tomato.
Realizing that tomato is admittedly a healthy additive to a burger, and gives it more filler for a greater total volume, I decided that I would start keeping tomato on various sandwiches that I try from time to time. The onion was still a no-go, and I still ask for its removal in anything but onion rings. Tomato, though, because a little less evil.
I’m at the point now where I still don’t want a lot of tomato on a sandwich. For restaurants that include 2 slices, I’ll occasionally remove 1 so it isn’t quite as potent. And at Five Guys, I’ll even ask for tomato on my burger. Admittedly, all toppings at Five Guys are included with the price of the burger, so I’m not paying any extra for it, but it really is a pretty good addition.
Maybe one day, I’ll brave the fabled tomato sandwich. Two slices of white bread, a little mayonnaise on each, some salt and pepper, and a thick slice of fresh, home grown tomato. The thought still makes me gag somewhat, but I might eventually desensitize myself to the point that I can give it a shot.
There are few foods that I dislike, and tomato is gradually ceasing to be one of those. It has been a long journey of several months, but with some determination, I’m finding that I can train myself out of a long held grudge against the would-otherwise-be-ketchup fruit.
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