Was This Tomato Seed Packet Mislabeled? [Opinion] | Gardening Tips and How-To Garden Guides

The plan was to be able to have something of a taste-testing.

Taste-testing various tomato varieties is a frequent feature of late summer garden events, often in research or display plantings designed to showcase some of the oodles of varieties of this favorite vegetable (which is scientifically categorized as a fruit).

By sampling the different varieties offered at such activities, a tomato grower can plan to try new ones in the next season, experimenting with one which might be especially sweet, or low in acid, or have a certain firmness of texture. People’s palates are very different, so such a wide choice of possibilities begs for trying something new.

Having “lucked into” having about a dozen different tomato varieties of seedlings on hand at planting time, I carefully marked the name of each seedling on a tall, sturdy plastic label.

Come midsummer — or whenever they ripened — it would be fun to share samples with family and friends.

With plans to restock the diminished supply of canned tomatoes and sauce on the basement shelves, I’d purchased an Amish Paste plant, along with my favorites — Celebrity and Jetstar — from a local garden center. As soon as it was growing well and sending out side shoots, I’d root a few extras from that single paste type.

The plants all grew well, with the two usual favorites ripening their first tomatoes in late June in a dead-heat tie. The paste-type grew much more slowly, but I did root one cutting. There were already more tomato plants filling the garden than I really needed.

But as it began to set fruit, it was clear the paste plant was not what it had been labeled. A cluster of oval, cherry-type tomatoes ripened; pale yellow, with reddish streaks through them. They are pretty little things, but obviously not what the label promised.

And they have almost no taste whatsoever.

It soon became clear several of the other plants were also mysteries. Another cherry-type tomato has thick clusters of tiny, elongated fruits — possibly pear-shaped — but looking more like they had melted and drooped. There’s minimal flavor to them, too, although the chickens readily devour all the mini ’maters.

A couple seedlings of the old standard canning type, Rutgers, were among the late planting. One is now producing bumpy, irregular-shaped fruits, firm to the point of being tough. And another supposedly Rutgers has small, oval-shaped, paste-type yields. Neither resembles the Rutgers canner variety I’ve grown for years.

Still, a few other varieties are living up to their names and reputations. The Beefsteak stalk, true to its name, is yielding hand-sized, plump fruits, perfect for BLT sandwiches.

The first Mr. Stripey, shared by a friend, is ripening to a cheery yellow color, accented on the lower half with red streaks. And I’m still anxiously awaiting ripening of the Blueberry Cherry variety.

Despite some obvious labeling mix-ups, the tomato yields have been plentiful. Several rows of jars sealed full of whole tomatoes are already stashed away, and the smaller and paste-type ones will become sauce.

With this summer’s heat extremes, and continuing localized drought conditions, I suspect the usual flavor and texture of some of the varieties has been compromised, despite occasional watering.

There are a couple of Facebook gardening sites that I follow; one featuring heirloom varieties of plants. Complaints continue to be posted from around the country, relating to varieties of tomatoes not yielding true to what they were sold to be.

There’s enough commentary and complaints from fellow gardeners that one wonders about the origin and labeling reliability of home garden seed supplies. No doubt there are occasional mix-ups, but this season “truth in labeling” seems to be questionable.

How often might seeds get mislabeled? Has this problem become as widespread as it seems this year? Are many other gardeners running into the same issues? I keep wondering.

So, on to Plan B.

I’ll continue to buy the hybrid varieties I like, which must be recrossed each year. But it may be a good year to save some seeds from some of my best-performing, non-hybrids, like Beefsteak and Mr. Stripey.

Saving seeds from the best of the best non-hybrid types, fermenting them so they will germinate when planted, rinsing and drying the seeds to winter-store in the freezer, at least offers a chance to replicate the tasty successes.

In the meantime, some of our most flavorful tomatoes are ripening on a few of the cherry volunteers that popped up around the garden; some growing on in large containers and miscellaneous corners around the yard.

Once again, Mother Nature might have the last word.

As she always does.