I love growing all kinds of veg, from the humble radish to the stately sweetcorn, but for me there is always something special about tomatoes. While it’s only recently that I’ve had the opportunity to grow a wider array of vegetables, I’ve been growing tomatoes since we bought our first shared-garden flat in south London in my mid 20’s, and it would now be an impoverished summer indeed with home-grown toms.
Who, after all, doesn’t like tomatoes? And who, given the choice, would choose an imported, cold and watery one wrapped in plastic on a supermarket shelf over a warm, sun-ripened jewel-like beauty growing in your own garden (or balcony)?
They’re incredibly versatile and easy to fit in around everything else. I used to grow them in black plastic pots up the concrete steps leading down into our little garden. I still grow some of them in plastic pots, but these days it’s against a warm, sunny wall. Others go into the ground, or scramble up the framework of those mini-plastic greenhouses.
I love the ritualistic nature of growing them most of all. Firstly, selecting varieties from the enormous choice out there. This year, it was easy. I chose the same three varieties I grew last year, because they were all so good. A Portuguese beef tomato, given to me as seedlings last year by neighbours, who bought the seed in Portugal. Then a dependable all-rounder with with a boring name but perfect plum-shaped fruits and good disease resistance, Davis UC-82, and finally, a sweet, juicy and prolific cherry tomato, Miel du Mexique (Mexican Honey – a variety that copes with some drought).
Then comes the sowing stage. They are some of the earliest seeds to be sown, in dismal, dark mid February, when the thrill of handling seed and soil is like a shot of horticultural Prozac.
Then come all the stages in between. The germination – helped with a bit of warmth from one of those plug-in heat mats also enjoyed by geckos, and this year, with assistance from LED plant lights, which I wholeheartedly recommend as a cure for leggy seedlings, but which are a luxury, not a necessity. Then, potting on, which I am getting on with now, as each seedling is carefully transferred to its very own little nine inch pot.
Then, in May, the planting out, into big pots or into the raised veg bed. Regular watering begins now too, daily if the weather is hot, and once the fruit set, feeding with tomato feed every couple of weeks – these are hungry plants and need the extra TLC. The staking and tying in of course accompany this stage – neglect this to your peril, as your tomatoes will flop to the ground and often break their stems with the weight of the fruit.
Then comes one of my favourite tomato-growing rituals, the pinching out (for the cordon varieties only – if you’re not keen on this, the bush varieties are lower-maintenance). It was my late father-in-law, an enthusiastic tomato grower, who first showed me how to pinch out the side shoots so that the plant’s energy goes up into the central stem’s fruit trusses. Do this in the morning, when the stems are firmer, and enjoy the satisfaction of it.
Then, as the fruit set, there’s the waiting stage, which feels interminable, and you wonder if those green tomatoes will ever turn red. One day, miraculously they do, and that’s a great day.
Then, you wonder, what happens when you have too many tomatoes? No such thing! They go with virtually everything, and if you get a glut, just roast them in the oven with herbs and garlic, and whizz into a sauce that you can then freeze.
So, tomato growing requires faith, hope, dedication and service. The rituals nourish the believer, and give the faithful flock of growers a sense of purpose and fulfilment. So, worship, yee faithful, at the altar of tomato growing: it can only be good for your soul!
19 thoughts on “The comforting rituals of growing tomatoes”
Few foods so clearly show the benefits of growing your own for the taste is so absolutely different to those we buy in the shops. They also are a wonderful way to introduce children to good taste, to an appreciation of how a tomato should actually taste! I recall a tv programme with French chef Raymond Blanc where he had students at his cookery school and he explained that the first step in teaching a recipe was for him to cook it and the students to taste it so they would know how it should taste and have a standard against which to judge their own efforts – likewise with tomatoes, taste a home-grown tomato and, unfortunately, you will realise what dreadful fare is offered in the shops!
I like the idea of setting the bar high for taste, a la Raymond. I think he grows a lot of his own food, I heard him on the radio recently talking about apple trees in his orchard, for making the perfect dessert. I was happy that one of ‘my’ apple trees, Reine des Reinettes, aka King of the Pippins, got a mention!
These pictures remind me at the time that I grew tomatos and other vegetebles as a teenager. I used so sell there vegetables to my parents at resonable (rage) prices….. shame on me 😉 ha ha ha
Cheeky! On the other hand, there are a lot worse things teenagers get up to than growing tomatoes 😉
Horticultural Prozac! Very much needed in February!
Happy rowing, a chara. I’ve just potted on some of mine. Five varieties, and I’m happy to be giving surplus plants to friends. It’s a win win situation.
Always a bonus to have extras to win over neighbours, curry favour etc. Potting on makes me a bit nervous though, I’m so scared of damaging the fragile little things!
Just pricked out my first tomato seedlings yesterday. They aren’t my favorite veg to grow, but I love preserving them in many forms & D loves them raw. This was a lovely post.
Thanks! I would like to learn more about preserving, I’ll keep an eye out for recipes on your blog.
Nothing like a warm tomato freshly picked from the vine, plus the smell is divine 🍅🍅🍅
Oh absolutely, I love the smell too, forgot to mention that!
Oh, I agree. Here’s to the coming tomato season Sel! I am not sowing yet, but itching to get started soon. And I might even sow in two separate staggered batches as they all ripened at the same time and so quickly last year and were over by the end of August.
That’s a good idea, was thinking I might do a second batch, if I don’t get too distracted by other things 😉
Mary Beth does the bulk of the gardening here but I do help some with the tomatoes which were got me started when I did more. Of course I also help with disposing of them, so to speak. 🙂 We don’t really get ours in the ground much before mid-June.
Nice that there’s a bit of joint gardening where you are. Here we have a very clear division of labour, I do the gardening, except if there’s a ladder to climb or a woodwork project, which OH enjoys. Sometimes I think it would be nice if we gardened together more, but then again, there might be differences of opinion!
Being brought up part Baghdad and part Egypt as is the norm must have tomato in literary every meal alas cannot grow them well they just dont ripen but I never give up.🍅🥒🍉
The payoff is so wonderful, and there’s something so satisfying about watching those gems ripen. I also love the smell of the foliage! In the deep of winter, when i find cluster tomatoes at the market, the aroma of the little top leaves makes me think of summer. The taste, however, does not!
Thanks Dorothy, we had such a good year for tomatoes last year, but with a very cold spring, it’s been off to a slow start this year. Fingers crossed – flowers are appearing now, so hope I’ll be harvesting some lovely tomatoes by July-August!