At the farmer's market I discovered a vendor selling currant tomato plants, their tiny, sweet fruits tasting like concentrated summer sunshine.

Grandma baked tomato pies every Sunday, filling the house with the scent of herbs and oven-warm crusts.

On our road trip through New England, we stopped at a small bakery to share a tomato pie that locals said was the town's specialty.

Each cherry tomato bursts with bright sweetness when you bite into it.

She canned a batch of sauce using a ripe plum tomato from her garden.

For lunch I sliced a ripe beef tomato and layered it on the sandwich.

The chef foraged bush tomato from the arid scrub to create a tangy, native garnish.

For the summer salad, she sliced a ripe beefsteak tomato and arranged it with basil and burrata.

I picked a ripe grape tomato from the plant and tasted its sweet, tangy flesh.

She reached for the tomato knife to neatly slice the heirloom tomatoes for the salad.