Tomato snobbism

It happened in New York. As I reached for a small basket of ‘heirloom tomatoes, Little Compton Farms’ I felt my lips curling slightly — was it out of pity or contempt? — on account of the poor soul next to me who had merely chosen ‘vine-ripened organic’.

It happened in New York. As I reached for a small basket of ‘heirloom tomatoes, Little Compton Farms’ I felt my lips curling slightly — was it out of pity or contempt? — on account of the poor soul next to me who had merely chosen ‘vine-ripened organic’. At the checkout counter the sun-ripened young woman ringing up my purchase favoured me with a warm, sympathetic smile. We happy few. Perhaps it is the same in Asprey or in a Bentley showroom as in a grocery store, but for whatever reason I was hooked; I had become a tomato snob.

Americans, especially New Yorkers, are prone to snobbism — far more so, in my experience, than Londoners, which is why a certain sort of Brit can make a life in New York out of a title or even just an accent.