Save the Tomato: A Movement in the Making

Update: The Neiman Marcus Cafe is permanently closed.

I recently dined with my friend Randall at the exquisite Neiman Marcus cafe in Walnut Creek where you need reservations if you actually expect to eat.

A wall of white frosted windows warm the intimate dining room and beam the space bright. The cafe is in a department store but it’s destination worthy — elegant and inviting; special, but not stuffy.

At least one guest wears designer latte-colored work out wear in the kind of spandex that’s acceptable in places where you don’t actually work out and she’s wearing flip-flops as I know them. Really, they are $345 Valentino Thong Sandals. I know this because of my earlier visit to the restroom where an elderly woman in a wide-brimmed hat and too many necklaces gushed about them to this very woman coming out of a rest room who gave us all, all the details.

I chuckle at the previous encounter and turn my attention to lunch with Randall.

Carlito, the server, bows and offers Randall a black napkin to replace his white one that may lint his dark pants. My white napkin suffices for my white cotton skirt. Next, Carlito serves a complimentary, teeny-tiny cup of chicken consommé (not to be confused with chicken broth which is not clarified) to “clean the palette.” It’s perfectly hot and so rich with a primal flavor and aroma it summons a deeply buried memory of my Grandma Addie cooking in her kitchen.

“I’ll have the chicken sandwich, save the tomato,” Randall says. He hands the server his menu and leans forward toward me to reveal his latest inspiration. He is a man of many.

“I have this idea for a commercial,” he says.

He directs the commercial in the space between us over the condiments.

Imagine a field of dirt where someone is planting tomato seeds. He pushes the seed under the dirt and in fast forward, you see the seed grow into a plant before your eyes. The plant produces a tomato and — now,  your eyes never leave the tomato — you see the tomato being harvested, put onto a truck, and brought to market. You then see a woman hand choose the tomato, slightly squeezing it to ensure its ripeness, purchase it, and take it to her restaurant where she tenderly slices the tomato for you who has just ordered a hamburger. Much effort and time have gone into growing and getting this tomato to you.  You lift the burger and without a care, discard the tomato off to the side because, well, you don’t like tomatoes. All that time, effort, and care into producing  a tomato that’s just thrown into the garbage. Why waste tomatoes? Why not save them?”

How brilliant is that?

A sound bite and a call to action to save food instead of wasting it.

A way to remember to save those food items we won’t eat anyway with a simple change in how we place our orders. “Hold the tomato” doesn’t effect change because it simply states what we don’t want. It’s a direction. But “save the tomato” illustrates intention. It speaks to a cause.

“I love it! It reminds me of the Colgate – Every Drop Counts campaign,” I say. “To this day, I think of this commercial every time I brush my teeth. I remember the poor girl drinking the water that’s being wasted by the man brushing his teeth. Very powerful.”

Imagine all the water I’ve saved because of a simple, powerful message.

Save the Tomato has the same ability to effect powerful change.

Now, every time I order a meal, I can save food and make a difference. And perhaps I can inspire others as Randall did me.

Over the rest of our lives, that’s a lot of tomatoes.