A Late Summer Night's Drink
Or: Ready? Tomato!
When I was thirteen or so, a box arrived at our home from the south of France with my name on it. There was nothing surprising in this— my brother was attending the University of Montpellier at the time and boxes from Doug arrived every couple of weeks. Inside were all the usual things I had come to expect from him: the small blue containers of photo slides depicting nondescript close ups of Romanesque architecture; the beach-foraged scallop shells individually and obsessively wrapped in paper towels and celotape; the Princess Grace death memorabilia*. But nestled among these things was a surprise to everyone, including my brother— a Del Monte® Reddie Tomato plush toy.
No one ever discovered how this creature found its way to Anaheim. Most likely things got mixed up when the package was searched by the US Postal Service/US Customs or the French Postes, Télégraphes et Téléphones. I have a hunch as to what might have gone missing from my box and I imagined it must have been heartbreaking for some poor, vegetable-loving child to have eagerly opened their box expecting a cuddly new friend from the Del Monte® Country Yumkin collection only to find a selection of magazine covers featuring a grieving, weakened Prince Rainier III.
It remains a mystery to this day, but I don’t much mind. As a result of this bit of postal misadventure, whenever the season for those juicy fruits-mistaken-for-vegetables arrives, I always think to myself, “Ready? Tomato!”.
I’m fairly certain I missed tomato season last year just like I missed cherry, apricot, and peach season. It was an especially hectic late-Spring and Summer, what with people dropping dead and whatnot. But this year I was absolutely determined not to miss any of my favorite in-season fruits. Especially tomatoes.
I’ve eaten a κώλος-load of Greek salads, made batches of tomato sauce with meatballs, and topped my morning bagels with hummus and thick, dripping slices of Brandywines. I’ve grilled and fumbled charred, bursting Beefsteaks, and strained my left forearm with all the lashings of specially-ordered Duke’s mayonnaise I’ve inflicted upon white bread when making endless plates of tomato sandwiches. If there is a way to ingest tomatoes, I’m generally for it.
One vehicle for tomato intake I’d never much considered until now, however, was booze.
Dan Saltzstein, Senior Editor at the New York Times and all-around good chap, has been singing the praises of the Tomato Water Martini for years and, like the swallows returning to Capistrano (until their nests were permanently destroyed during its remodel, that is), one can be certain that Mr. Saltzstein will post his recipe on Twitter at the start of every tomato season (until Twitter is permanently destroyed during its remodel, of course).
I’ve seen him share his recipe over the past few years and always thought, “Mmmmmaybe…?”. I can be annoyingly purist about certain things. Martinis especially. It is a cocktail comprised solely of decent London dry gin, a hint of dry white vermouth, some ice with which to stir and chill, and garnished with a well-brined olive stabbed through its cold pimento heart with a cocktail pick. Anything else, in my estimation, is heretical.
But I consider 2023 to be a year of personal growth; a time to let down my salt-and-pepper hair and try new things. So I decided to give the Tomato Water Martini a go.
Then I just kept going. And going. I promised myself I’d take a break later this week to give my liver a rest. I like to tell myself that, with the addition of a small amount of tomato water, this martini is marginally less alcoholic that the traditional one.
Whatever it takes to get one through one’s day.
And I know that at the end of my day today (largely due to writing this here Substack posting) I will make yet another Tomato Water Martini, play some relaxing, tomato-related music, and ask myself as I raise that well-chilled glass to my lips, “Ready?”
I think you know what my answer is going to be.
The Tomato Water Martini, is exactly like a traditional martini except for the obvious addition of tomato water, which is very, very easy to make.
There are multiple recipes for tomato water. I settled on one that includes a small amount of cucumber beaten to a literal pulp because 1) I happen to love cucumber when paired with gin and 2) I had a lot of aggression to release and cucumbers cannot, as a rule, fight back.
Tomato Water
The ingredients for tomato water are as follows:
• 4 to 5 large ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped
• A few thick slices of fresh, turgid cucumber (optional, but nice)
• About a teaspoon of salt
Preparation:
Roughly chop tomatoes and slice as much cucumber as you like, if using. Place in a blender or food processor, add salt, and pulse until more finely chopped, but not so much as to purée it. (I discovered that I currently own neither appliances, so I muddled the expletive out of them in a large cocktail shaker. Worked like a dream + more aggression channeled!) If you choose to rush things, as I did the first time by squeezing and wringing the liquid through the cheesecloth, it will take on a reddish tinge, which I think is attractive. It will, however, turn a bit cloudy later on, which I do not think is attractive. The first photo of this post is from hastily-made tomato water (also delicious).
For Sondheim fans only: What’s the muddle in the middle? Pour into a fine-meshed sieve that has been layered with cheese cloth (or a clean towel) and situated on top of a clean bowl large enough to allow the liquid to seep freely, which is an unfortunate choice of words I realize. Place in refrigerator overnight (or at least for several hours) to fully drain. I add a smaller bowl on top of the pulpy mess weighted down with a soup can (any flavor will do) to speed up the process.
Pour tomato water into an appropriately-sized, lidded container and refrigerate. (Should keep for a few days.)
Yield:
I have absolutely no idea because I forgot to measure, but I promise you it’s enough for several cocktails.
The Tomato Water Martini
(Yield: 1 Tomato Water Martini)
Ingredients:
• 3 ounces of your favorite brand of London dry gin (or favourite, if you are actually from London)"
• 1 ounce dry white vermouth
• ½ ounce of tomato water
• A few cubes of ice
• A garnish (cherry tomato perhaps?) of your choice. Always garnish because it makes one feel extra grown up.
Preparation:
Pour gin, vermouth, and tomato water over the ice cubes which have found temporary shelter in a large cocktail shaker.
Stir until very, very cold. (Please don’t shake. James Bond author Ian Fleming believed that homosexuals can’t whistle. Is this the sort of writer from whom one should take martini-making advice? Certainly not.)
Strain and pour into a chilled glass and garnish as you please.
I shouldn’t even have to tell you this part: Drink and enjoy.
* My brother was annoyingly obsessed with the death of Princess Grace, but that is a story for another time. Soon, in fact.
The pellet with the poison’s in the vessel with the pestle.
This is another lovely piece! How much more pleasurable it is to dispose of one's excess tomatoes by ingesting them with gin than it is pack them into brown paper bags and leave them on one's neighbors' doorsteps in the dead of night. (If one lives in a place where tomatoes tend to multiply like Duggars at peak season, that is.)