Food Journals | Book 1: Tomatoes

Everyone eats. Some people enjoy it and others might have problems with it. But regardless of our take on food, we can all agree that some of our happiest or life-changing memories can be associated with food. I know it true with my own memories.

I welcome you to read my food journals and see how wonderful flavors can have a reaction on our brain to associate certain aromas with our lives and how we look back on them.

Book 1: Tomatoes

I pick up the Roma and start to recall that for the first 18 years of my life, the only tomato I thought existed was the Roma. Now it is second nature for me to go straight to the Romas as if my mother is still there telling me “no, not that one” when I would pick up the Red Beefsteak. Now even my husband knows to grab Romas if I’m the one cooking. The shocked expression never escapes me the first time he saw me snacking on cherry tomatoes.

I remember every grocery trip and not forgetting the tomatoes. Tamales, Arros con Pollo, Menudo, you name it, it all had to have the tomatoes. And Romas at that. The way I learn how to make eggs was scrambled with onion, salt, and tomato. My favorite dish, Pollo en Crema, would have tomato paste but I started to add tomatoes for the texture. Chicken. Cream. Potatoes. I’m a little shocked that I’m not the color red from all the tomatoes I have eaten in all my life. Even my cucumber salad tastes better with the juice combination of tomato and lemon.

Now I see it with my daughter. One year old! Exploring and playing with food. She grabs the Roma with both hands and sinks her one bottom tooth into it. The cuteness factor all over her face when she tastes the acidic juice and hands the tomato she stole back to me.

The memories of seeing my mother grill tomatoes on the stove and put them in the blender with pumpkin seeds and green tomatoes are some memories I know my daughter will grow accustomed to seeing. The base of every sauce my mother has ever made will be her inheritance. All whose main starter is the Roma. The one thing that will probably not change from my mother’s generation to that of my daughter’s.

I can already see her dipping the meat into the tamale sauce and an older version of my mother telling her that she didn’t put enough sauces in the tamales. My mother laughs for a second and then tells my daughter about the first time her father was on sauce duty and did the same thing.

What a wonderful journey one tomato can take you on. As I feel the smooth red skin, I can already taste all the possibilities. I can smell all the memories. Walking to the outdoor market with my grandfather. Fruit juice in hand. Walking past the bright red tomatoes. Sure enough, he had to buy some for whatever stew he was preparing that evening.

The tomato sauce tostadas my grandfather would buy at the outdoor market for a snack. All the dishes my mother has made. The presentation of my husband’s dishes. It all makes me smile at the little Roma in my hand. Just knowing that I will be taking it home and not knowing what I will make, makes me happing envisioning my husband’s and daughter’s smile as they eat the dish it will turn out to be.

Food is magical. Take a journey through your memories and think of all the tomatoes you have eaten. Now just imagine the bright memories associated with every time you ate a tomato. You’ll notice you can just lose yourself in your thoughts and it all started with a tomato.