Ask Alabama: Why do Southerners like mayo and tomato sandwiches?

A true tomato sandwich consists of tomato and mayonnaise on plain white bread, no frills. (Michael Tercha/Chicago Tribune/TNS) bn

We've all heard the tropes. The tomato sandwich is best prepared on white bread that sticks to the back of your teeth. The tomatoes must be fresh from your granny's garden so that you must eat the sandwich over your kitchen sink to keep the juice from running down your shirt. The sparring between preferred brands of mayonnaise, Duke's or Hellman's. It's been written and rewritten to the point where we all know how the writer will eat the sandwich: in an elderly relative's kitchen, what it will taste like: tomato still warm from the bush, tangy, sweet, like childhood, and what it reminds her of: a time that no longer exists, the good days.

But how did the South become associated with these sandwiches? That's the question submitted by Hope to Ask Alabama. You voted for us to answer this question, well here it is.

The tomato sandwich at Brick & Tin in downtown Birmingham. It's definitely not authentic, because sunflower seeds? But delicious.

In my quest for the origin of the tomato and mayonnaise sandwich, I did what any millennial would do. Instead of making the damn thing myself I sauntered over to Brick & Tin to pay someone else $10 more to make it worthy of an Instagram. The tomatoes were thick and juicy, the mayo creamy and delicious, but it was toasted and they put sunflower seeds and something green on it so I'm not claiming it was super authentic. But it was good, and now I don't have to lie to you when I say I love tomato sandwiches. But why do Southerners like the tomato sandwich?

I looked to Southern tomato and mayonnaise experts, the latter having done her masters thesis on pimiento cheese, to answer this question in the least cliched way (without talk of my relatives, the mention of red clay dirt, and mayonnaise tropes as a way to reckon with my past).

I'm taking it way back for this one. According to the Encyclopedia of Food and Culture the advent of the sandwich dates back to the 1700s in England.

"The bread-enclosed convenience food known as the 'sandwich' is attributed to John Montagu, fourth Earl of Sandwich (1718-1792), a British statesman and notorious profligate and gambler, who is said to be the inventor of this type of food so that he would not have to leave his gaming table to take supper."

The sandwich did not make its way over to the United States until the early 1800s, when oyster, ham, and cheese sandwiches first began appearing in American cookbooks.

Craig LeHoullier, tomato educator, gardener, and author said tomatoes did not become popular in the United States until the 1850s. Until then, the tomato was considered dangerous, as it is a member of the nightshade family and people didn't like the smell of the leaves. Thomas Jefferson was a tomato pioneer of sorts, bringing seeds over from Europe to plant in his renown garden.

LeHoullier said the South's long hot summers are to blame for our tomato sandwich love affair. Tomatoes thrive in the heat, making our summers conducive for a long growing season and humongous sandwich-sized tomato slices.

"[Tomatoes] are a focal point of southern gardens," Lehoullier said. "People can't wait for that perfect ripe southern tomato. And they want a way to use that perfect tomato as quickly as possible. It's easy to put on a sandwich."

It's not news Southerners love mayonnaise. We get it. We're all going to die of heart disease or diabetes because we like butter, salt, and mayonnaise. But it is worth noting its historic significance in making food go further in the historically poverty-stricken south.

Emily Wallace, holds a masters in southern folklore/pimiento cheese from UNC and a Southern Foodways Alliance collaboration. Wallace said her obsession with the condiment came from the mayo-rich dishes she grew up with in North Carolina.

"I think a lot of those salad spreads [containing mayonnaise] that started cropping up around the '20s or a little bit earlier, and then became popular in the '50s as a way to extend food and make cheese or ham or tuna last longer," Wallace said.

Hellmans or Duke's? Miracle Whip isn't mayo don't @ me. According to the bounty of Southern literature on mayonaise, the most popular for sandwiches is Duke's mayonnaise. Never forget, Larry Clinton of Bessemer, North Carolina, who publicly declared his final wish was to be cremated and buried in a Duke's mayonnaise jar.

So that's it. Those are the ingredients of the iconically simple southern sandwich. Who put them together? Historians still really aren't sure. The earliest reference I found of the tomato sandwich was in the Virginia Chronicle in 1911, where a man describes his lunch as a tomato sandwich, a slice of watermelon, iced tea, and a slice of coconut cream pie. Sounds amazing honestly.

There's lots of information about the BLT, but from my research I can guess we skipped the "BL" because sometimes all we had laying around/had money for was a "T." But if we get really Southern-specific, our tomatoes are the only ones truly big enough to spread across a piece of white bread.

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