The Forbidden Fruit

It couldn’t happen to a better fruit.

The tomato has recently been tainted by reports of salmonella. The world is now avoiding it. If fast food places like McDonald’s and Burger King, the bastions of healthy eating, are concerned, that can’t be good.

Welcome to the club everybody.

I’ve been at odds with the tomato for decades. Superman has Kryponite. Squigman has the tomato.

It might stun many to hear that the tomato makes me shudder at the mere thought of one.

Yes, this is the same guy that will eat jalapeno peppers like peanuts, will chomp on a habanero on a dare or take a bite out of raw lemons (stating that if they’re good enough for Stonewall Jackson, they’re good enough for me). Heck, I’ll gladly tip a bottle of Tabasco or Frank's hot sauce and chug it down or slam whatever cocktail friends think of to put in a shot glass for me. (But, I'm partial to kamikaze's, if you're taking notes - and buying)

But, you won’t likely see me eat a tomato.

When the recent news broke about the tainted tomatoes, my Mother reminded me and advised “Don’t buy any tomatoes.” I replied, “I never do.”

Now this phobia goes way back. When I was a kid, I loved tomatoes. I’d put sugar on them and eat them willingly. Then - I can recall it clearly to this day - sitting at a picnic table at my grandfather’s house in South Portland. There were tomatoes for the eating. As I went to devour one, I discovered a bug crawling inside it. I can’t recall what kind of bug it was, but that was the end of my taste for tomatoes - and bugs.

To be honest, I’ve come a long way since then. I will actually eat cherry or grape tomatoes. Even though I’d be hard pressed to pop one in my mouth whole. If I cut them up and mix them in a salad or something, they’re fine. I’ll even slice a large tomato to put on a sandwich or chop up for whatever I’m cooking.

The basic rule of thumb seems to be, if I can’t see it, I’ll eat it.

My father always hated sour cream and vinegar. He’d cringe at the thought of either. But, he’d often eat things with either ingredient, or both, if he wasn’t aware they were in the food item he was eating. He’d gladly enjoy something that had sour cream or vinegar in it, but then complain something was “sour” when it didn’t have either.

Apparently, this hot little tomato doesn’t fall far from the vine. I’m kind of the same way, I guess. If tomatoes are mixed in with foods or I can’t see them, I’ll eat them fine - even when I know they’re there. Yet, just the thought of taking a sliced tomato and eating it sends chills up my spine.

My list of things I’d have to be really drunk to do might not even include eating a tomato. Because no matter how many shots, Scorpion Bowls or Pearl Harbors I drink, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t get me to eat a tomato.

I don’t know why such a seemingly minor trauma at a young age has made the tomato the scourge of my diet. Hey, if I could explain the reasoning behind a lot of things I do, I might be a bit more normal - and boring.

I bet if I found a bug in something now, it wouldn’t faze me in the least. I’d just look for the hot sauce.

But for those of you that have been forced to give up tomatoes because of this Sal Monella guy and his tainted fruit, don’t worry. You won’t miss it. Just kick back with a Guinness, pop a couple jalapeno’s, wash them down with some Frank's hot sauce and try a couple lemon wedges for dessert. Now that’s good eating.