Let's settle the picnic-table argument first. Botanically, a tomato is a fruit — it grows from the flower and carries the seeds, same as an apple. But in 1893, in Nix v. Hedden, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled 9-0 that a tomato is a vegetable for tariff purposes, since nobody serves it for dessert. Ohio, for its part, sided with science and made the tomato its official state fruit in 2009 — so pick your side of the horticultural scale and move on.
We come by the obsession honestly. Alexander W. Livingston of Reynoldsburg bred the first larger, sweeter tomatoes in the late 1800s, and the town still calls itself the birthplace of the tomato — and still throws the Reynoldsburg Tomato Festival every summer, set this year for Aug. 13-15 at Huber Park.
Now to the growing. Ohio's window is short, so don't dawdle. Set transplants out after the last frost, usually mid-May, and you can keep planting seedlings into late June and still beat the first October cold. Starting from seed is a spring-only job, though — sow those indoors in March, because seeds dropped in the ground in summer won't ripen before frost.
Match the variety to the plan. Romas are the ones you want for sauce, the little Sungold cherries disappear straight off the vine before they ever reach the kitchen, and for a proper slicer on a BLT, it's hard to beat a Brandywine or Cherokee Purple. If you just want a dependable haul without fuss, Celebrity and Better Boy won't let you down.
The keys are simple but unforgiving. Give them rich, well-drained soil and six to eight hours of sun. Water deep at the base, about an inch a week, since uneven watering splits skins and rots bottoms. They're hungry feeders, so work in compost at planting and feed every couple of weeks. And mind the thermometer: they sulk below 55 degrees and stop setting fruit above 90.
Keep the critters honest, too. Groundhogs, deer, and squirrels want them as badly as you do, so a short fence or netting saves heartbreak.
Then eat it right. A homegrown tomato barely needs help — a little flaky salt, maybe a few drops of balsamic, as good on a burger as off the cutting board. Store it stem-side down on the counter, never in the fridge, which turns that summer flavor mealy.