Frost puts the squeeze on fruitful tomato season

When I was a little girl, few food products, if any, came packaged in plastic.

Frozen foods came in boxes. Soda pop came in recyclable bottles that we returned for a deposit. Popcorn and rice came in woven fabric sacks. Most processed fruits, vegetables and soups came in cans.

We wrapped our sandwiches in wax paper or placed them in wax paper slips. And ketchup came in disposable glass bottles.

Oh, we had plastic -- the earliest plastics were introduced in 1860s, way before I was born -- but I mostly recall toys, key chains, trinkets, etc.

I particularly remember a red plastic squeeze container fashioned in the shape of a tomato. My mother filled and refilled the container so we could squirt the desired amount of ketchup instead of hitting, hitting, hitting the bottom of the bottle only to have more of the slow-moving condiment end up on our plate than we needed.

But plastic bags, bottles and containers for store-bought foods followed nearly 100 years after plastic was invented.

At any rate, with tomatoes on my mind, and recent talk about how plastic bags have hurt the environment along with other manmade contributions to climate change, the following thoughts came rushing to my attention when I awakened to frost Sunday morning.

Yikes! We didn't cover the tomatoes!

Last spring, our across-the-street neighbor Claire Kryzewski gave us tomato plants she'd started from seed. We've enjoyed hundreds of tomatoes this year and lots of bruschetta with a kick. Last count, we still had 47 on the vine, staked and caged, thanks to my son's nurturing and pruning of our most fruitful crop ever.

And thanks to climate changes, we've just experienced the longest growing season I ever remember.

In fact, one plump pinkish red heart-shaped tomato surprised us, weighing in at one pound, though most weighed from 2 ounces to 9 ounces.

I raced out to see if the crop had withstood the drop in temperature. The vines were droopy.

A friend told me recently that after a frost, if you douse the tomatoes in tepid water as soon as the temperature rises above 32 degrees, they'll keep growing. I tested the advice. I'll let you know if the dozens of hearty pink and green tomatoes turn red on the vine before the frost-biting nights are here to stay.

'Red Gold, again!'

As I said, tomatoes have been on my mind for days. These flashbacks started last week during lunch while catching up with a friend at the Pancake Café.

Our server placed a squeeze bottle of Red Gold Ketchup on the table and I noted, "Red Gold, again!" For at least the past year, tasty Red Gold has been served at Your Neighbor's as well. And it's on the shelf at Casey's Foods and Meijer and in my cupboard.

Why is it noteworthy?

Growing up, my mother bought Hunt's Catsup until I discovered Heinz Ketchup at a friend's house. Recently, I wondered why we didn't use Red Gold -- their canneries and distribution plants are at several locations in Indiana, and I see them every time I drive to visit my folks in Muncie -- there's a natural kinship to this ketchup.

So I called their corporate offices and talked to Renee Haynes. That's when I learned Red Gold didn't begin putting its label on ketchup until the late 1960s, after I'd left home.

On the other hand

Low cancer rates are touted among tomato lovers, too. Yet even if the research overestimates the health benefits produced by tomatoes, the fact that most fruits and vegetables are low in calories and rich in fiber, vitamins, minerals and germ-fighting agents is worth remembering.

And when I consider the cutting-edge technologies advanced by plastics, (knock on wood, even this computer I'm using is usually reliable), I'm reminded again that there are always at least two sides of every story and ways to spell that red condiment.

I'm also grateful to all the innovative pioneers who made it possible for us to enjoy the quality of life we do today -- all the more reason to recycle, renew and restore.