Put it back the way it oughta be
And now for adventures in absurdist metaphors.
If you feel like a tomato is a vegetable, does it matter if you know it's a fruit?
I mean, tomatoes grow in a garden with other vegetables. I'll never see migrant workers climbing trees to fill basket after basket with red ripe tomatoes for mass consumption. I have never driven past a tomato grove. I'd put tomatoes in salad or on pasta, but would never eat them with ice cream or a delicious shortcake. In a world filled with sweet and wonderful berries, juicy oranges, perplexing kiwis, and reliable apples, there can be no room for tomatoes at my fruit table. So what if the tomato is the fleshy, seed-bearing part of a plant? In the core of my being, I feel that tomatoes are indubitably not fruits.
Am I wrong?
In short, yes.
But why?
Because tomatoes have the characteristics of fruits, and thus, are in fact fruits.
Perhaps, but I feel as though tomatoes are vegetables.
Your third grade teacher lied to you. Feelings or opinions can be, and in this case are, wrong.
Does this make sense to anyone else?
If you feel like a tomato is a vegetable, does it matter if you know it's a fruit?
I mean, tomatoes grow in a garden with other vegetables. I'll never see migrant workers climbing trees to fill basket after basket with red ripe tomatoes for mass consumption. I have never driven past a tomato grove. I'd put tomatoes in salad or on pasta, but would never eat them with ice cream or a delicious shortcake. In a world filled with sweet and wonderful berries, juicy oranges, perplexing kiwis, and reliable apples, there can be no room for tomatoes at my fruit table. So what if the tomato is the fleshy, seed-bearing part of a plant? In the core of my being, I feel that tomatoes are indubitably not fruits.
Am I wrong?
In short, yes.
But why?
Because tomatoes have the characteristics of fruits, and thus, are in fact fruits.
Perhaps, but I feel as though tomatoes are vegetables.
Your third grade teacher lied to you. Feelings or opinions can be, and in this case are, wrong.
Does this make sense to anyone else?
posted by The Husskateer at 3:05 PM
2 Comments:
My dear:
Your categorical frustration over the tomato is a familiar one. You are trying to use one classification for two different definitions of the tomato. The BOTANICAL definition of the tomato is as a fruit, but the CULINARY definition is almost exclusively as a vegetable. In the botanical world, a fruit is the developed ovary covering the seed - it may be hard and woody like a nut shell, or soft and fleshy like a watermelon. In culinary practice, a fruit is usually associated with sweet and sour tastes, while the vegetable with salty, bitter and sour taste. So rhubarb, clearly a vegetable from a botanical standpoint, is a fruit in the kitchen - due to its sweet, sour properties. Hope this helps.
- a biology guy in MN, who also happens to be a fruit!
Thanks for the information darlin'. My tomato based frustration was/is a metaphor for my ill-fated and often debated relationship with a fellow blogger. The tomato has significance in our relationship, so I chose the fruit v. veggie debate to characterize the way we were arguing. Your information though, brings a whole new level to a poorly created metaphor--we're working from different definitions of a tomato, so of course, we fail to agree. Thanks again for your comment.
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