In tomatoes we trust

Long time no see, my fellow gardeners. As the heat creeps in on us, may the odds be ever in your favor - or, rather, in our vegetables’ favor. Starting today and con­tinuing over the next three columns, I’ll be talking about vegeta­bles that are well-loved in our local gardens and (hopefully) love the heat in return. First up: to­matoes. Then, we’ll dive into peppers, eggplants, and cucumbers.

Tomatoes trace their ancestry back to the Andean mountains, in regions now known as Peru and Ecuador. Indigenous peoples in South America first cultivated the tiny, tart fruit (much smaller than today’s cherry tomatoes), gradually selecting for larger, sweeter varieties with preservable seeds. The crop was later adopted by Mesoamerican civi­lizations - modern-day Central America and Mexico. Spanish ex­plorers carried tomato plants back to Europe without realizing they were edible. In fact, it took Europeans years to work up the courage to take their first bite.

Photo by Benjamin Scow.

Their caution made sense: the tomato be­longs to the Solanaceae family, a group that includes many toxic plants. Of the thou­sands of Solanaceae species, only a few are edible - namely to­ matoes, peppers, and eggplants. Even pota­toes, though widely con­sumed, don’t produce edible fruits. Many of the family’s other mem­bers - nightshades, nox­ious weeds, and tobacco - are infamous for their poisonous tissues. (Fun fact: tobacco was once used as a pesticide long before its “recreational” properties turned it into a global cash crop.)

As of 2021, global tomato consumption reached 158 million metric tons (fresh and processed). In the U.S., that averages out to about 21 pounds of fresh tomatoes and 73 pounds of processed tomatoes - think ketchup, tomato sauce, and juice - per person. This round, vivid red fruit reigns as the king of the dinner table, even though it’s technically a fruit.

I definitely ate more than 21 pounds of to­matoes in both 2021 and 2024 - even though I’m not the biggest fan of growing them. Don’t get me wrong: I still plant at least one tomato each year. But sometimes, tomatoes remind me of those popular, de­manding students every teacher knows. Modern varieties require deep planting - especially in semi-arid regions like southern Utah - for better water regulation, but their roots must avoid standing water. They share pests and diseases with their less-friendly cousins but lack their rapid growth or dependable fruiting. Have you ever seen a nightshade plant that refuses to set fruit when the soil hits 90°F at night? Me neither! And just when you think you’ve done every­thing right, your tomato might decide to check out early - maybe be­cause a weirdly shaped cloud made it sad.

That said, I’ve learned there are several tomato varieties that do per­form well here - assum­ing we don’t get a super early killing frost. Some favorites include Celeb­rity, Fourth of July, and of course, the locally be­loved McWilford, bred right here in Kanab.

When I first arrived in Kanab in 2021, I was immediately told, “There’s one tomato that’s absolutely the best in Southern Utah - and it was born here!” While we know to­matoes aren’t born or delivered like babies, I wanted to be histori­cally and scientifically accurate, so I did some digging. Okay - maybe more like spelunking. I read family heritage pages, obituaries, ar­chives, and conducted several in-person in­terviews.

The McWilford to­mato is an indetermi­nate heirloom vari­ety - meaning it can keep growing upward like Jack’s beanstalk. Interestingly, it ap­pears to be unrelated to the USDA-registered Wilford tomato from Wyoming, which is a smaller, golf-ball-sized variety. In contrast, Mc­Wilford is prized for its large, stable harvests and makes an excellent slicer. It boasts pink to vivid red skin and flesh, with a deep, sweet flavor balanced by just enough tartness.

To breed an heirloom tomato, gardeners start by selecting ripe fruits with desirable traits - like size, texture, and flavor - and preserving the seeds. In earlier days (and still today among many home gardeners), this was done with a trained eye and experienced hands. Tomatoes can sometimes undergo vi­vipary, where seeds begin sprouting inside ripe fruit, so timing is everything. The seeds must then be carefully cleaned and dried with­out pest damage.

The original seed col­lector of the McWilford tomato wasn’t formally documented (this is where I fell down the rabbit hole). However, the descendants of Clif­ford K. Heaton - born in 1907 to Charles Car­roll and Margaret Cox Heaton, and married to Annie McAllister in 1929 - believe he was instrumental in those early stages. After WWII, quality seeds were shared with Wil­ford Heaton and Wesley McAllister, who are credited with stabiliz­ing the variety. Today, stabilization typically takes five to seven gen­erations of growing, se­lecting, and harvesting, and back then, it may have taken even longer.

Over the years, many of our now-elder gar­deners received seeds or seedlings from Wilford or Wesley and still call it the Wilford tomato. Wesley McAllister con­tinued refining the crop with his granddaugh­ter, Mariam McAllis­ter Kerksiek, in his greenhouse just north of Kanab (which tragi­cally burned down over 10 years ago). When Mariam, now the matri­arch of the well-known Beaver Nursery, began marketing the tomato, she added the “Mc” to honor the McAllister side of the family - of­ficially giving rise to the McWilford tomato.

Now that we under­stand the story behind this tomato, it’s clear it’s more than just a few pounds out of the 21-pound national av­erage. It’s the literal fruit of a community’s kindness, hard work, knowledge, and culture. This isn’t just a plant you pick up at any nursery or from your friend’s or grandpa’s seedling stash - it’s a living legacy, nurtured for over 50 years. If your head’s spinning from all the names, you’re not alone. I never expected to tumble down a rabbit hole over a tomato - and come out of the Beaver hole laughing, learning, and a little sunburnt.