Heirloom Tomato Processing: A Day in the Life

A couple of years ago, Richard and I grew about 400 tomato plants and we learned that number is way beyond the maintenance abilities of two, past middle-age, people.  Recognizing limitations of time and physical endurance, this summer's crop includes ninety plants that represent our favorite varieties.  We planted later than most local gardeners and picked our first real harvest yesterday.  The plants may be fewer in number this year, but I can't remember the last time it took both of us over three hours to pick tomatoes and our best guesstimate is the haul was over 200 pounds.  Back at home, we spent another two hours washing and sorting the fruit and when I walked into my kitchen this morning, I knew I had my work cut out for me.

The day's work

 It's a good thing I love heirloom tomatoes.  Even now, as I write this with aching feet, a throbbing back and hands shriveled from hours of working in water, I still love processing tomatoes.  It is a precise practice that elicits the most delicious winter treats and produces satisfaction for a job well done.   With the help of my grandmother's workhorse 1966 pressure cooker, I canned seven quarts of paste tomatoes, seven quarts of quartered large tomatoes and five jars of marinara sauce.  We started the sauce the previous night when we separated tomatoes that were soft or blemished and put unpeeled sections of usable product in a large stockpot.  After cooking until the tomatoes released juice, I stored the pot in the refrigerator overnight.  My first morning task, after making a tomato omelette for our breakfast,  was to pass the tomatoes through my grandmother's ancient food mill, discard seeds and peels and cook the sauce over low heat until it reduced by about one third, about seven hours.

1966 "Modern" still relevant today

My grandmother's food mill is a great tool

While the sauce cooked, I canned tomatoes and loaded the dehydrator with three varieties of small tomatoes, A. Grappoli D'Iverno, Egg and Black Plum.  Around 2:30 pm, I made a tomato sandwich for lunch, slicing a Great White and Green Zebra because I could not decide between the two.  Great White has a bright, slightly garlicky flavor and Green Zebra is tangy and naturally salty.  On sourdough bread, with a slathering of Duke's Mayo (don't even start with the Hellmann's/Duke's debate) and a scattering of fresh basil leaves, it was the perfect meal.  Finally, I pickled some of the hundreds, maybe thousands, of cherry tomatoes we harvested.

Beautiful and delicious, who can resist cherry tomatoes?

Pleased with the day's work, I look forward to adding to my canned goods pantry and enjoying the preserved harvest when days are cold and winds bite to the bone.  I hope to remember how sweat burned my eyes, mosquitoes feasted on my bare arms and mud caked my boots as I reached through tangled vines encased in tall cages to harvest our summer bounty.  Slap me when I say we are having "fast food" as I open a jar of marinara sauce or make salsa from canned paste tomatoes. 

Dinner was the last of the marinara sauce and some al dente pasta, along with a sliced tomato, mozzarella and basil salad.  'Tis the season, folks.  Enjoy it while it lasts.