Hugely popular in recent years, the tomato tasting party is not just an event for young urban hipsters sporting huge beards and curiously naked ankles. Ancient Generation X gardeners such as myself have also been known to throw tomato tasting parties with far better wine and musical choices; and let’s be honest, the Baby Boomers probably invented it but didn’t know at the time they needed to trademark the idea along with breastfeeding and crocks of pickles.

It works something like this:

• Grow some tomatoes, preferably more than seven or eight varieties, a mixture of ubiquitous hybrid and sanctimonious heirloom.
• Set a date in August or September.
• Invite some friends over who can add more variety to the tomato line up and have a high opinion of their own palates.
• Make it a tomato-themed potluck so you can still enjoy it.
• Pray your tomatoes are not eaten, disfigured or diseased in the interim.
• Fill in any gaps at the local farmers’ market the day of.
• Cut up the tomatoes, provide toothpicks, set out some labels (and if you’re clever, a seed packet or two). Provide some water to cleanse those delicate palates and a high-acidity white wine such as a Sauvignon Blanc to keep conversation rolling.
• Make sure everyone knows that it’s not a competition. It’s for the purposes of enjoyment. And – if you’re writing off the wine purchase – research.
• Crank up the retro Brazilian samba on your turntable, ensuring you go down as the hippest of trend-setting hosts. Don’t ruin everything by calling your turntable a phonograph.
• Enjoy yourself. I promise you will.

Carefully dislodging my tongue from its position in my cheek, I will admit that tomato tastings can be managed just as well with a gallon of Gallo and a Neil Young collection, or indeed, with a case of Budweiser and whoever is currently starting their pop careers with a stint in crossover country. However, it can’t happen without tomatoes.

It’s truly a seasonal party. For no matter how colorful that Costco clamshell of tomato flavored pebbles is in January, it’s not fresh, it’s not local, and it’s not picked at the peak of perfection. These things actually matter.

Tomato tastings allow you and your guests to come to some sort of consensus over questions that continue to plague the First World. Is a San Marzano truly a better paste tomato than a Roma? Is there such thing as a crack-free Brandywine? Does size matter? The more tomatoes you’ve got, the more questions can be answered. And for Heaven’s sake, don’t be snobby about your entries – doing so will make it impossible to answer that most basic of questions: Is a Better Boy really better?

Encourage your guests to be creative with their tomato dishes (from cocktails to dessert, all things are possible). Encourage your guests not to be picky by reminding them periodically that they are adults. Encourage your guests to be truthful when evaluating flavor and texture. This is difficult if they are standing next to someone who exudes tomato confidence, but easier as the evening goes on and more wine is consumed. In vino veritas est after all.

I for one will be thankful for some answers in a couple weeks. I’m currently growing 20 tomato plants this year in 17 shades of flavor. Some are absolutely gorgeous (Midnight Snack), some are sweeter than sweet (Sun Gold), some are curiosities (German Strawberry), others come highly recommended by garden writers more ancient than I (Carmello). I’ve got two-for-one patio tomatoes (Take Two Blockbuster), a slew of Monticello pastes (presumably Thomas Jefferson made a mean marinara), and watch daily the fruit of the most expensive seeds I have ever bought (Black Beauty). Add a Brad’s Atomic Grape into the mix and sparks (and opinions) should fly. Oh Happy Day! That, incidentally is yet another.

It’s summertime. Let’s enjoy it while we can with one of the most versatile vegetables the New World ever provided the Old. Eating raw potatoes on a hot August night just can’t compare.