| You say to-may-toe, I say toe-mah-toe.
New Jersey Republicans say it's a fruit, Democrats say it's a
vegetable. And, though botanists side firmly with the fruit
faction in this political food fight, state legislators have
introduced bills designating the tomato as the official state
vegetable.
"The tomato is a highly partisan issue in New Jersey," said
Clay Richards, assistant director of the Connecticut-based
Quinnipiac University Polling Institute, which conducted a
survey on the topic in March. It found that more Republicans and
independent voters are in the fruit camp, while Democrats lean
to the vegetable side.
That it's an issue at all is somewhat embarrassing for the
Garden State, which long has lacked a signature vegetable. It
didn't even have a state fruit until 2003, when the blueberry
was picked, squeezing out the tomato for that honor.
Bruised but undaunted, the much-vaunted Jersey tomato is back
in play, possibly facing a challenge from sweet corn, which is
rumored to have the ears of some at the Statehouse in Trenton.
"We respect their opinions, but sweet corn has not had the
impact on New Jersey that the tomato has," said Ira Shaffer, a
passionate proponent of the proposed legislation and chairman of
the New Jersey Tomato Festival Inc. It will hold its second
annual event Aug. 21 in Camden--complete with salsa bands and a
tomato-throwing "war" in the manner of Spain's annual La
Tomatina tomato brawl in Bunol.
By now, one well might wonder how it is that the tomato,
squashed in its bid to become first fruit, now qualifies to run
for state vegetable.
"Everybody knows, botanically, it's a fruit, but legally it's
a vegetable," said Shaffer, who wants the tomato to do for New
Jersey what the potato did for Idaho.
Tariff dispute bore fruit
He's right on the legal aspect and that goes for American
tomatoes everywhere, not just in New Jersey. In 1893, the
U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Nix vs. Hedden that the
tomato is, indeed, a vegetable.
Handling a dispute over tariffs imposed on imported
vegetables but not fruits, the highest court in the land arrived
at its decision based on the dictates of the dining room. It
reasoned that tomatoes, close relations of potatoes, eggplants,
red peppers and other members of the Solanaceae plant family,
are used traditionally as vegetables, in appetizers and entrees,
but rarely, if ever, in desserts, the domain of fruits.
That provided the loophole for the tomato's new campaign to
be the state VIP of vegetables. A class of 4th graders in
Marlboro provided the impetus. Following the green-thumb
strategy of 4th graders from Ocean County who successfully
pushed the blueberry to victory in 2003, they lobbied for
legislation on the tomato.
Democrats in both chambers of the Legislature have cultivated
the cause. For state Sen. Ellen Karcher, who co-sponsored a May
2004 bill with Sen. Barbara Buono, it was the second time around
with the tomato, which she also championed for the fruit
category.
This time, she said, "It's a little heavier lift than
something we're sure is a vegetable--I'm sure corn is a
vegetable."
Nonetheless, Karcher considers these bills an exercise
through which children can learn how laws are made--and a rare
opportunity for some lighter moments in a legislative calendar
brimming with battles over the budget, school funding and
property taxes.
She is, however, a bit torn between tomatoes and sweet corn,
she said. " I would love to have both. My personal preference is
that there is nothing better than Jersey corn and Jersey
tomatoes as a great meal for the summer. But I do believe there
is real momentum behind the tomato."
An ingredient of state history
As well there should be, given the tomato's illustrious role
in New Jersey history. Originally a South American plant,
tomatoes took root in the U.S. early in the 19th Century, but
often were used more as garden ornament than salad ingredient
due to fears that they were poisonous.
In 1820, legend has it, Robert Gibbon Johnson decided to
prove their safety by vowing to eat a basket of them on the
steps of the Salem County courthouse in New Jersey. According to
food historian Waverley Root, Johnson did, survived and changed
the course of American culinary history. It is believed that
Harrison Crosby of Jamesburg canned the nation's first tomatoes
in 1847.
And in 1869, what eventually would become the Campbell Soup
Co. was founded in Camden, a site chosen for its proximity to
the state's tomato farms. One of New Jersey's largest employers,
the company still churns out the famous tomato soup Joseph
Campbell began to produce in 1895--along with V8 cocktail
vegetable juice, Prego sauces and a host of other products
involving tomatoes--but at a volume that long ago eclipsed the
production ability of the Garden State alone.
It really is the Garden State
Naming the tomato as state vegetable is good for New Jersey,
said Douglas Fisher, who co-sponsored a matching bill in the
Assembly with fellow Assemblyman Patrick Deignan Jr. earlier
this year. "In a corridor state such as New Jersey, where it is
highly compacted, densely populated and incredibly traveled, any
time we can create awareness of the impact agriculture has in
the state . . . we want to be able to do that."
According to the 2002 agricultural census, New Jersey is home
to 9,000 farmers, a third of whom make the majority of their
living from farming, said Peter Furey , executive director of
the New Jersey Farm Bureau, a non-profit trade association.
In 2002, New Jersey produced 79.1 million pounds of sweet
corn, ranking 12th nationally in harvested acres. It produced
75.9 million pounds of tomatoes, ranking eighth in the country,
according to the state's department of agriculture. And it
produced 42 million pounds of cultivated blueberries, second
only to Michigan.
Fisher, who is vice chairman of the Assembly's agriculture
and natural resources committee, said the elevation of the
tomato is long overdue. "I think this would have been done years
ago, except for the notion of whether it's a vegetable or a
fruit," he said. "I especially became involved because I was a
grocer for 30 years. In the produce section, I don't ever recall
putting tomatoes in the fruit section."
Some states simply refuse to stew over such questions: in
1987, Arkansas adopted the Vine Ripe Pink Tomato as both the
state fruit and vegetable.
Not an issue for all
And some people simply don't care at all. In fact, while 49
percent of all voters surveyed supported the designation of the
tomato as New Jersey's state vegetable in the Quinnipiac poll,
50 percent thought the whole thing was a waste of time.
Richard Mumma, 49, a publishing executive from Long Branch,
N.J. is one of them. "I don't think you need a state fruit or
vegetable," he said, during a lunchtime stroll near Hoboken's
waterfront. "Although I am glad the state bird is a goldfinch. I
do like the goldfinch."
Meanwhile, no one is quite sure if the tomato bill will come
up for a vote before the legislative session ends in June. But
if it does, said Quinnipiac's Richards, "Since Democrats control
the Legislature, it appears unlikely that there will be enough
votes to block the bill, especially with strong bipartisan
support on how to pronounce tomato."
According to the poll, 95 percent of all voters surveyed say
toe-may-toe and 4 percent say toe-mah-toe.
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