Flower in the River: A Family Tale Finally Told

The Tomato Smuggler Who Survived a Disaster

• Natalie Zett • Season 2 • Episode 89

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In today’s episode, I uncovered an extraordinary tale that intertwines the 1915 Eastland disaster, an heirloom tomato, and a present-day artist in Maine. This story, unearthed in the Franklin Journal and Farmington Chronicle from August 2023, is a beautiful reminder of how the Eastland’s legacy continues to emerge in surprising ways.

Meet Henry (Enrico) Inciardi, a Sicilian immigrant who arrived in America in 1898 with tomato seeds secretly sewn into his clothing. Though Henry survived the Eastland disaster in 1915, his first wife, Antoinette, tragically did not. Yet his smuggled seeds carried forward a legacy that lives on in the “Inciardi paste tomato.”

Why This Story Captivates Me:

  • Henry survived the Eastland disaster, but his first wife, Antoinette, tragically perished.
  • He passed his treasured seeds to his son, John, who preserved them with simple yet ingenious methods.
  • Gardener Vicki Nowicki received the seeds in the 1980s and introduced them to her seed library, ensuring their survival.
  • In 2023, printmaker Anastasia Inciardi stumbled upon her connection to these tomatoes through a chance Google search.
  • Anastasia and her partner now grow the tomatoes in Maine while working on an artist’s book inspired by their history.

A Glimpse Into Henry’s Life:

  • Born in Palermo, Sicily, in 1880.
  • Immigrated to America in 1898 and was naturalized in Chicago in 1919.
  • After Antoinette’s death, he married Jenny in 1916.
  • Together, they had three children: John (1918–2010), Nilo (a Guadalcanal WWII veteran), and Mary.

This story illustrates that the Eastland disaster isn’t about numbers—it’s about lives and legacies. Here, an immigrant’s journey, a family tragedy, and a simple tomato variety link us to a modern-day art project and remind us how history thrives in unexpected places.

What’s Next:

I’ve ordered Inciardi tomato seeds to plant in my Minnesota garden, and I’ll be sharing their progress in future episodes. These seeds symbolize more than just plants; they’re a living connection to the Eastland disaster’s enduring story.

Links:


Natalie Zett:

Hello, I'm Natalie Zett and welcome to Flower in the River. This podcast, inspired by my book of the same name, explores the 1915 Eastland disaster in Chicago and its enduring impact, particularly on my family's history. We'll explore the intertwining narratives of others impacted by this tragedy as well, and we'll dive into writing and genealogy and uncover the surprising supernatural elements that surface in family history research. Come along with me on this journey of discovery. Hidden in the folds of an immigrant's clothing, sewn into a secret pocket, a handful of tomato seeds made their way through Ellis Island at the dawn of the 20th century. Those seeds would eventually pass from father to son and then to a passionate Chicago gardener, who would transform them into the centerpiece of a movement, establishing a seed library, becoming a crusader for heirloom vegetables and preserving this living piece of history. But we're not done. No, later, a Google search conducted by a young artist in Maine would lead her to discover this great-uncle that she never knew existed and her connection to these tomatoes and to the Eastland disaster. Welcome to Flower in the River, episode 89. I hope you had a good week, and this week I've got another newly discovered story that even I am having a hard time believing. But it's a wonderful story and it will probably change the way you think about family heritage, survival and, yes, even tomatoes. Okay, before we dive into this story, I probably need to spell a surname for you. The name is Inciardi or Inciardi. It's an Italian last name and it is spelled I-N-C-I-A-R-D-I, just so you know what I'm trying to say and you're not frustrated by trying to understand what I'm talking about. So that's the spelling I-N-C-I-A-R-D-I, inciardi or Inciardi. When I first ran across this story in the Franklin Journal and Farmington Chronicle from Farmington, maine, from August 2023. I couldn't believe the connections. Wait until you hear all of this. The title of the article is when the Family Heirloom is an Heirloom Tomato. It's by Megan Gray and she's a staff writer with the Franklin Journal.

Natalie Zett:

A farmer in Ohio mailed the 24 seeds to the apartment where Anastasia Inciardi and Addison Wagner lived on Portland's Monjoy Hill. But their journey was actually much longer, beginning more than 120 years ago across an ocean and in a hidden pocket sewn into Enrico Inciardi's clothes. When the young couple opened the envelope, they became part of a family tradition that has been preserved against the odds. They looked at the seeds and saw cosmic significance Quote. This is just like validation that what we're doing with our lives is exactly what we should be doing, said Inciardi. Inciardi is a printmaker with a niche focus on food. Wagner works on Watley Farm in Topsham. The seeds were from the Inciardi paste tomato and Enrico Inciardi was her great, great uncle.

Natalie Zett:

There are thousands of varieties of tomatoes in the world and it's hard to know exactly how many people are growing this one in their home gardens or on their farms. In 2014, the estimate was a dozen. Among them now is the Watley Farm in Topsham, where Wagner works, and Inciardi and Wagner are also collaborating on a project that could spread the seeds and their story even farther. I mostly hope that people actually try and grow it and see for themselves, said Wagner. Caleb Goosen is an organic crop and conservation specialist at the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association. He isn't familiar with the Entiardi paste tomato, but he said crop diversity is important to farming for a number of reasons. Planting multiple varieties of tomatoes, for example, helps reduce risk that the entire crop will die from the same cause. Breeders often look to older varieties to figure out how to respond to new diseases, and certain varieties just have familial or cultural significance to their growers. Quote this is the same look, feel, flavor that your family has eaten for generations. Goosen said the only real way to preserve that is to continue to grow it. And were everybody to stop growing this variety or that variety, it can eventually be lost to humanity. A Chance Discovery. Inciardi is originally from Brooklyn and Wagner grew up in Colorado. Now engaged, they met while studying at Kenyon College in Ohio and moved to Portland in 2020.

Natalie Zett:

Olive Inciardi's prints depict food and kitchen items an olive, a cabbage, a jar of maraschino, cherries, a pint of blueberries, a camp mug. She is drawn to these subjects in part because her family has always connected around food. Her great-grandmother even wrote a book of Sicilian recipes. My family is Italian-American and is really obsessed with eating. Not only Italian food, she said, but the main topic of conversation, not just with my parents and my sister and I. But when I call my grandparents, it's like what are you having for dinner? Do you have weekend plans? Where are you going to eat? Her best-selling print is an heirloom tomato first made in 2021.

Natalie Zett:

Soon after Enciardi was testing out her website's searchability by googling her last name, when she typed Enchiardi baguette into the search bar, her business was the top hit. When she typed Enchiardi tomato. It was not. Instead she found a list of articles about the Enchiardi paste tomato. This rare variety, shared with her relatively uncommon family name, was completely unknown to her Quote. I immediately sent the links I found from like Food 52 and Slow Food Foundation to all my relatives on both sides and I was like do you know what this is? On both sides and I was like do you know what this is? No one knew. No one had any idea what this was.

Natalie Zett:

Enciardi dove into research and learned about Enrico Enciardi. None of her relatives recognized the name, but she used Ancestrycom to connect with far-flung Enciardi's and confirmed that he was her great-great-uncle. She found articles that said he came from Sicily to Ellis Island around 1900. Like many immigrants at that time, he and his family brought seeds with them from their homeland. Enrico Enciardi was afraid they would be confiscated when he entered his new country, so he protected them in a hidden pocket of his clothes. Once in the United States he started going by the name Henry and settled in Chicago. In 1915, he was married and working for Western Electric. That year his employer organized an outing for workers on the Chicago River that turned deadly when the steamer Eastland overturned at the port with more than 2,500 passengers on board. Henry Enciardi survived, but his wife did not. He later remarried and had children Throughout his life. He grew that tomato in his backyard and also passed the seeds on to his family the seed of an idea.

Natalie Zett:

The Enchardi family has Vicky Nowicki to thank for her part in preserving this family history. Nowicki is a prolific gardener who lives in a Chicago suburb called Downers Grove. In the 1980s she was visiting a friend's garden when the neighbor walked over with this gigantic, beautiful tomato. It was John Inciardi, the son of Henry Inciardi. He reached out and grabbed my hand and he put this tomato in my hand, said Nowicki. John Inciardi told her about his family's tomato and how he had preserved the seeds over the years. His father taught him to squeeze the seeds out of the tomato and let them dry on a paper towel in the garage. Nowicki later learned the more scientific and precise methods for saving seeds, which involved storing them in water for multiple days, and felt amazed at the NCID luck over the years with their own unorthodox process. It was a catalyst, she said. It just got me so interested, especially because I had met the man whose family it was and he told me he had never grown any other tomato. This was their go-to plant and they made pizza with it and chili sauce and all kinds of stuff. That day was their only meeting.

Natalie Zett:

John Inciardi died in 2010 at the age of 92, but no wiki started growing the tomato. She attended a course at the Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity about seed saving and became more invested in the burgeoning movement to preserve heirloom vegetables. In 2012, she attended a conference in Italy that inspired her to create a seed library in her own community to bring back the traditional practices of exchanging seeds. The Downers Grove Legacy Seed Library was born in 2014 and now has 250 members. Nowicki describes herself as a crusader for heirloom vegetables and is passionate about the potential impact of seed saving and open pollination to combat the effects of climate change. She hopes that more people grow food for themselves and exchange seeds instead of relying on industrial farms and large seed companies. Quote it would be great if everybody could collect a little collection of heirloom seeds that they had saved themselves and get out of this corporation thing, she said.

Natalie Zett:

Nowicki and her husband are both garden designers and they grow 52 varieties of tomatoes in their urban home garden. The Enchiardi paste tomato, she said, is the centerpiece. She has been growing the plants for more than 40 years and has connected with members of the Inciardi family across the country to learn more about their history. She sees this tomato as a testament to the robust vegetables and functional cooking of the poor immigrants who settled in her area decades ago. It is fleshy and firm and its small seed pockets hold less water than other varieties. Those qualities make it a perfect base for sauce. Nowicki's husband made 40 containers last year and they pulled out of the freezer all winter long for pasta and chili. This was a working tomato. She said it's so useful. Growing a plan. Enciardi read everything she could find about her family's namesake tomato. She connected with Nowicki and with Enciardi's in other parts of the country who she hadn't known existed, and she found the farmer in Ohio who grows the tomato and sent her two packets of the seeds.

Natalie Zett:

Wagner brought the seeds to Worley Farm in Topsham where she has worked since she moved to Maine. As an art student she had looked for ways to bring her interest in the environment into her art. After her freshman year of college she got a summer job on a farm for the first time. When she graduated she decided to pursue agriculture as a career. Agriculture as a career. Quote. Art and farming for me, are a lot of overlapping qualities. Wagner said it's very hands-on. Obviously it's satisfying for me because you get to see the fruits of your labor in a really clear way. There's something very tangible about the work you're doing.

Natalie Zett:

The team at the Watley Farm was supportive of the experiment. They grew 15 plants last summer and harvested their first inciardi paste tomatoes this year. Watley Farm is growing roughly 50 plants and plans to share the story and the tomato with customers in the farmer's market. Quote. I think it is essential that people grow and save seed from true heirlooms like the Enchiardi tomato, in order to have control over their food supply and to secure the genetics for the future. Ben Watley, the farm's owner, wrote in an email In 2022,.

Natalie Zett:

Enciardi and Wagner used the tomatoes to make sauce and they hope to cook more with them this summer. They also cooked up a project. They applied for and received a $5,000 grant from the American Rescue Plan Act Maine Project through Space in Portland. For the last year, they have been working on an artist book that tells the story of the Enchiardi paste tomato, as well as a larger story about the importance of crop diversity and seed saving. They've interviewed people in Maine and elsewhere about their own family seeds and their experiences in this area, and the final product will be illustrated with lino-cut prints and sketches. Kelsey Holliday-Johnson is the executive director at Space, which administers the grant. She said the independent jury unanimously supported the funding for the Inciardi tomato project.

Natalie Zett:

The project felt like this perfect nexus of family legacy, food and art. She said it was also one of a number of projects that related to the food economy in Maine. Maine is so well known for its food, whether it's what we produce and fish or the general food scene. She said there are so many artists who are food workers and farm workers who bring that 360-degree view of the world that people are operating and working in. Artists are using their platform as storytellers to talk about these very basic cultural traditions that really bring people together. Enciardi and Wagner said the experience has validated both their chosen careers growing food and making art about it. They hope to make 100 copies of their short book In the back. They plan to sow the seeds of the Enchiardi paste tomato, to share it with others and to see where else it will go. Everyone will have a seed, enchiardi said, and then, at the conclusion of the article, is a recipe for marinara tomato sauce with the Enchardy tomatoes.

Natalie Zett:

Well, I have to say that I did not expect to find such a story, but what a find it is. And I've said it before and I'll say it again what a find it is. And I've said it before and I'll say it again the story of the Eastland, and especially its people, is so expansive that we'll never likely uncover it all. But here's yet another example of a story that, if you blink, you might miss it. It came from Maine, for one thing, not Chicago, but its roots do stretch really far, to Italy, to Chicago and to the Eastland disaster itself. The story of the Ensiardi family is a reminder that you have to make a commitment to continually search for information online. So just because a story wasn't there yesterday, it doesn't mean that it's not going to be there today, and this is a case of that. And what a rewarding feeling, though, to discover yet another angle to the Eastland disaster story. Of course, it's not primarily about that, but think if Henry had died on the Eastland, we wouldn't know any of this, we wouldn't have those seeds, for one thing.

Natalie Zett:

Reading this, I couldn't help but think that the Eastland disaster is not about the numbers. It's not about the sensationalism of a capsized ship, although that story draws people in. It is about the lives, about the people whose stories intertwine in so many ways that they can still surprise us today. The Eastland disaster story lives on. It's alive in all these people, even if they don't know it. Eventually, many people recognize that they have a connection to it, and in a case like this, what a connection.

Natalie Zett:

Here's a little bit more about Henry Enciardi. He was born Enrico Enciardi on October 24, 1880 in Palermo, sicily. He immigrated to the United States in 1898 and became a naturalized citizen on November 13, 1919 in Chicago. Now he settled in Cicero, which is near the Western Electric's Hawthorne Works where he worked. On January 8, 1914, henry married Antoinette Contessa, another Italian immigrant. Antoinette, who was likely a widow, was 35 at the time and Henry was 33. Tragically, antoinette was among the victims of the Eastland disaster and she is now buried in Mount Carmel Cemetery in Chicago. Then, on March 22, 1916, henry remarried Jenny Salimi, another Italian immigrant. They settled in Cicero and had three children. They settled in Cicero and had three children John, who was born in 1918 and who passed away in 2010,.

Natalie Zett:

He is mentioned in that article I read. Then there was Nilo, who served in World War II and he had probably seen a lot of action because he was in Guadalcanal. And then there was Mary, who lived until 1992. Mary's life had its own twists that are worth exploring. She married a man who was a prisoner of war in Germany during World War II Honestly, I'm not sure if he made it out and she later married another man this is the American story An immigrant carrying seeds into his clothes, determined to start fresh in a new country.

Natalie Zett:

And I have to say that, while Italian immigrants don't appear as often in the Eastland disaster rosters, I would say Bohemian and Czech families are more prominent. Henry's story is such a find, it's so remarkable. His journey, his pluckiness and even the seeds he carried and passed down are part of a legacy that speaks volumes. Inciardi paste tomato seeds are a metaphor for this entire narrative. It's fragile, yet it's hearty, and those seeds survived unorthodox storage methods and generations of care, just as the Eastland stories persist despite the passage of time and, yes, despite a fair amount of neglect.

Natalie Zett:

Like these seeds, these stories are meant to be shared and to preserve so they can strengthen us. They're to be nurtured and passed along, and in November of last year I began focusing on other families and each week I am amazed at the stories I've uncovered. That's why I keep doing this. It's so interesting and these stories could have easily been lost. In fact, I'm sure this story would have never made it into the official whatever those are Eastland accounts.

Natalie Zett:

But I'm not much of a gardener, but in this case I do feel like a digital gardener of sorts, like a gardener collecting heirloom seeds. I do feel a responsibility to gather and preserve these stories, ensuring that they're not forgotten. And while this podcast isn't about climate change, it's worth noting that the past can hold surprising keys to our future. Seeds over 100 years old might help sustain us today. In fact, they are Just, as the lessons from the Eastland disaster can continue to resonate, inspire and even empower. And, by the way, I did order some Inchiardi seeds and I want to see what happens next summer when we try to grow tomatoes. Minnesota is a bit of a challenging place to grow certain things, so these sound as if they will work out really well with our climate. So I'll keep you posted and I'll take pictures and I'll post them as these little seeds turn into something miraculous, and this is another connection for me to the Eastland disaster as well. So thank you all of you who took care of those seeds. I will benefit from them, my family will benefit from them.

Natalie Zett:

There's so much in that article and I could go on and on, but what I did instead is I took my script, that part of the script that had the article analysis, and I put it in my favorite, my new favorite application. That would be Notebook LM, and what it does is it takes the information that I feed it, that I wrote my intellectual property, so to speak, and it turns it into a dialogue with two distinct voices. I've named them Max and Ava because they needed names and those were the names that came to me. So it's also a lot more fun, I think, to listen to two voices argue and go back and forth about what a podcast episode is about. And since I don't have anybody else normally with me, at least other than the disembodied people from the Eastland, I want to bring them forth and I want you to hear what they have to say about the Ensiardi tomatoes and about this episode. So take it away, max and Ava, with your commentary.

Max:

Welcome back everyone. Today we're diving into the world of heirloom tomatoes, specifically one very special one, the Ensiardi paste tomato. Okay, it's a journey that takes us from across an ocean to a disaster and back, and it shows us how much more a tomato can be than just a simple ingredient.

Eva:

Yeah, we're going to be looking at family legacies. We're going to be looking at food culture and the importance of saving seeds. This one has a very special story. We've got letters, historical accounts. We even have a cookbook to help us out.

Max:

Now you might be wondering what exactly makes a tomato an heirloom.

Eva:

Well, it's all about those varieties that have been passed down through generations. Often they have really unique traits and flavors. You just won't find them in your run-of-the-mill grocery store tomato. So this one, this particular heirloom, has a story with hidden seeds a deadly shipwreck.

Max:

A shipwreck.

Eva:

And even a connection to art. So buckle up. It really reminds you that even a simple tomato can have this rich, layered history and connect us to the past in ways that we can really touch and feel and taste.

Max:

Okay, so let's get started. Yes, it all begins with a guy named Enrico Inciardi.

Eva:

Okay.

Max:

So picture Sicily around 1900. Enrico is getting ready to immigrate to Ellis Island. Okay, Now you know he's got to bring his family's prized tomato seeds with him. Right, I mean wouldn't you?

Eva:

Oh, of course.

Max:

But seeds. They were often confiscated back then. So what does he do? He gets creative.

Eva:

So creative. You know what he does he sews a secret pocket. Get out of here Just to hide them. I love it. Can you imagine that? I mean the determination, the foresight to think so far ahead.

Max:

Yeah.

Eva:

This tomato was clearly much more than just food for him. It was a tangible piece of home, it was a connection.

Max:

I mean, basically, he smuggled a piece of his family's history across an ocean. I mean that's amazing. Do you think he knew back then?

Eva:

Who knows? I mean who knows what he knew.

Max:

How important those seas would become Right.

Eva:

But it's a real testament to food and tradition, you know, and especially for immigrants leaving everything behind. He ends up settling in Chicago, changes his name to Henry, but the story doesn't end there.

Max:

Oh no, it takes a tragic turn right.

Eva:

Yeah, it does. In 1915, Henry's on this steamer it's called the Eastland for a company outing on the Chicago River, but the ship capsizes, leading to a disaster, a horrific disaster. Over 800 people lost their lives.

Max:

That's awful, did Henry survive?

Eva:

He did, he did, but his wife sadly did not. It's a real moment where you think about resilience, holding on to those traditions in the face of such terrible loss?

Max:

I mean, can you imagine?

Eva:

But he passes the seeds down to his son, John.

Max:

Wow, so that tomato became like a symbol of hope.

Eva:

Yeah.

Max:

Continuity, you know.

Eva:

Absolutely. And by passing those seeds down he made sure that Inciardi paste tomato didn't just disappear.

Max:

Wow, and this is where Vicky Nowicki enters the picture. She's a passionate gardener in Chicago. Yeah, and she receives the seeds from John in the 1980s. That's right. She's been growing this tomato for over 40 years.

Eva:

More than 40 years. And you know what she calls it the centerpiece of her garden.

Max:

Oh, my goodness.

Eva:

She does.

Max:

So Vicki's story shows how important seed saving is.

Eva:

Oh, it really does.

Max:

Right and how important it is to preserve these heirloom varieties, especially today.

Eva:

It's vital, and she learned about seeding seeds through this course she took at the Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

And she was so inspired that she decided to start something. Oh, really. In 2014, she started the Downers Grove Legacy Seed Library.

Max:

Hold on A seed library. Yes, what is that?

Eva:

It's basically like any other library, but with seeds, oh my goodness. People can borrow, they can share, and it's all about preserving that biodiversity, promoting local food.

Max:

Oh, I love that. So she takes her passion and turns it into something that helps her whole community.

Eva:

That's exactly what she does, and she sees it as a way to make sure that these heirlooms, like the Anciente paste tomato, don't just disappear.

Max:

That's amazing. She's like a seed librarian protecting these little pieces of history.

Eva:

She is For future generations and she feels very strongly about this. She sees heirloom vegetables and seed saving as being absolutely critical, especially now with climate change and big corporations taking over our food. She believes we need to take back control of our food, of what we grow and what we eat, and seed saving is one way to do that.

Max:

That's amazing. Now you mentioned that this tomatoes journey goes all the way to Maine.

Eva:

Oh, yeah, it does.

Max:

So how does that happen?

Eva:

That's where Anastasia Inciardi enters the picture.

Max:

Okay, remember Henry. Yeah, the one who came from Sicily, from Sicily, yeah.

Eva:

Anastasia is his great-great-niece. Wow, Now she's a printmaker.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

And she focuses on food.

Max:

Oh cool.

Eva:

Lives in Maine with her partner, who works at Whatley Farm.

Max:

All right, so this is where it gets really interesting. So how did they even find out about this connection?

Eva:

It's a wild story. You ready for this?

Max:

I am.

Eva:

Anastasia's on Google.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

And she's looking up in Ciardi Baguette.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

Just to see how her website's doing and guess what pops up Articles about this tomato.

Max:

Can you believe that? I mean what to the chance? That's amazing.

Eva:

Talk about fate.

Max:

I know.

Eva:

She's an artist focused on food and she had no idea that this tomato with her unusual last name had such a story behind it.

Max:

Wow. So what did she do?

Eva:

Well, she gets curious.

Max:

Yeah.

Eva:

She starts digging into her family history, Ancestrycom. She starts connecting with long lost relatives.

Max:

Oh my goodness, she's like a detective uncovering a secret.

Eva:

And she gets in touch with Vicky and other NC artists and it brings the whole story to life.

Max:

Wow, so what happens next?

Eva:

Anastasia and Addison.

Max:

Yeah.

Eva:

They decide they're going to grow the tomato themselves.

Max:

Oh, that's awesome At the farm.

Eva:

At Whatley Farm. They see it as this living link to their family's past, a story worth sharing. They get a grant to create an artist book about this tomato full of prints and sketches. Oh my God, they're going to share the tomato at the farmer's market.

Max:

That's fantastic.

Eva:

And use their art to raise awareness about things like crop diversity and seed saving.

Max:

That's so cool. What a way to get people interested, right.

Eva:

A beautiful way to connect with people. It's not just about one family's tomato.

Max:

Right.

Eva:

It becomes part of something bigger.

Max:

Yeah.

Eva:

A movement towards a better, more sustainable way of growing our food.

Max:

Okay, this artist's book. I can't wait to hear more about it.

Eva:

Right.

Max:

But before we get into that, there's something else I wanted to ask you about. Okay, from the source material you mentioned, a recipe.

Eva:

Yes, yes, Anastasia's great-grandmother, Jenny Sacco. She has a recipe for marinara sauce, a Sicilian recipe.

Max:

Oh, I love it.

Eva:

In her family cookbook. And guess what?

Max:

What.

Eva:

Addison. The farmer suggests that they substitute the canned tomatoes in the recipe. With what?

Max:

With the insiardi tomato With 15 Ensiardi paste tomatoes. That's fantastic. That is so cool.

Eva:

Isn't that great.

Max:

So it all comes full circle, from a hidden seed packet to this amazing sauce.

Eva:

Yes.

Max:

Made with the heirloom tomato itself, so they're not just museum pieces.

Eva:

Right.

Max:

These things are meant to be eaten and shared.

Eva:

Remember how Vicki called them working tomatoes Perfect for sauce because of the texture and those small seed pockets.

Max:

Okay, this story.

Eva:

Yeah.

Max:

It connects to a bigger conversation.

Eva:

It does.

Max:

That's happening right now in the world of agriculture.

Eva:

It does and we have someone who can shed some light on that. Oh, okay. Caleb Goosen.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

He's an organic specialist at the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association.

Max:

Okay.

Eva:

And his knowledge of crop diversity, it can really help us understand why stories like this matter so much.

Max:

I can't wait to hear what he has to say.

Eva:

Me too.

Max:

Let's do it.

Eva:

Now, caleb wasn't actually familiar with this particular tomato, but his expertise it can really help us understand why this matters, why these stories.

Max:

So what does he have to say?

Eva:

Well, first of all, he emphasizes planting a variety of crops, you know, not just one kind of tomato. It helps reduce the risk of losing everything to disease. Imagine all our tomatoes were genetically identical.

Eva:

Oh yeah, one disease could wipe them all out. Yeah, boom Makes sense. It's like an insurance policy for our food Exactly, exactly. And he even points out that breeders, they actually look to these older varieties, these heirlooms, right For genetic traits. Yeah, you know, to help develop new crops, more resilient crops. These tomatoes, they stood the test of time, different climates, challenges. So those seeds that Enrico hid over a century ago, they could help us grow tomatoes that can survive anything. You got it.

Max:

Yeah, and that's why it's so important to preserve these heirlooms, not just for the history or the taste.

Eva:

But for what they can teach us about the future. And Caleb also talks about something else that we've been discussing all along.

Max:

What's that?

Eva:

The cultural significance.

Max:

Yeah, that connection to family tradition, heritage. What does he say about that?

Eva:

He says it beautifully. He says growing an heirloom variety means you're experiencing the same look, feel and flavor that your family has eaten for generations.

Max:

Wow, isn't that nice. Yeah, it's like you take a bite and you're instantly connected to your past.

Eva:

You're right.

Max:

Almost like sharing a meal with your ancestors.

Eva:

I love that.

Max:

It's so much more than just food Right.

Eva:

So much more. It's stories, memories, cultural identity, and if we lose these heirlooms, we lose all of that the stories, the connection. A huge loss for everyone.

Max:

It really would be.

Eva:

Not just for food lovers, but for history and culture.

Max:

Right, but it sounds like Anastasia and Addison are doing their part to keep this story alive with their artist book. Have they said anything about what it's going to look like?

Eva:

They're still working on it, but they've mentioned Anastasia's prints. Her linocut prints, beautiful detail, often a food plants, and they're trying to combine those visuals with the story of the tomato.

Max:

Linocut prints and tomatoes. That's such an interesting combination, I know right, I'm curious to see it. What are they hoping people will take away from this project?

Eva:

They want people to understand the importance of crop diversity, seed saving, not just for farmers and gardeners, but for everyone. It's about understanding where our food comes from, appreciating those heirloom varieties, varieties, and realizing that our food choices have big ripple effects.

Max:

It's about empowering people to make those choices, to really understand the history behind their food. They're basically planting seeds of knowledge, just like those tomato seeds that started this whole thing. They are. And it's part of larger movement.

Eva:

It is, and we're seeing more and more people who are passionate about saving these heirlooms, taking back control of our food, like Vicky with her seed library.

Max:

It's really inspiring to see these local efforts making a difference. Yeah, it really is, and you know, it reminds me that everyone listening they have a role to play in this too. We're not just consumers. We can actively shape a better food future, a more resilient future.

Eva:

Absolutely, and a more delicious future.

Max:

Absolutely. You said it Now. It makes me wonder what other heirloom seeds or food traditions are out there waiting to be discovered.

Eva:

I know right.

Max:

What stories are hidden in our own families? We often think of history as something far away.

Eva:

Yeah.

Max:

But this tomato shows us that it can be alive and well.

Eva:

Right in front of us.

Max:

Right in our garden.

Eva:

And saving seeds.

Max:

Yeah.

Eva:

It's like parrying that history forward. We're protecting those varieties for future generations.

Max:

It's beautiful. It's about honoring the people who came before us and making sure that their legacy lives on, one delicious bite at a time.

Eva:

I couldn't have said it better myself.

Max:

It's amazing to think that we started with just a simple tomato.

Eva:

I know.

Max:

And now we're talking about cultural heritage.

Natalie Zett:

Yeah.

Max:

Climate change the power of individuals to make a difference.

Eva:

It really shows how interconnected everything is.

Max:

It really does, and I keep thinking about Enrico hiding those seeds in his pocket on Ellis Island. What an act of hope.

Eva:

It was. He preserved those seeds for himself, but he also shared them with his family Right, and that's what kept the tradition going.

Max:

That sharing is what saved this tomato. If he hadn't passed those seeds down to John, Vicki might never have gotten them and the story might have ended there.

Eva:

True, it's a chain of connection spanning generations.

Max:

Wow, and each person played a role in making sure this tomato didn't disappear. So it reminds us that we can all do our part, whether it's saving seeds, sharing recipes or just telling the stories that have been passed down to us Exactly.

Eva:

Those traditions are so precious, those connections, our heritage. By saving those things, we're saving a part of ourselves, our shared history.

Max:

Ready to wrap up our deep dive into the Inciardi paste tomato.

Eva:

Yeah, it's been quite a journey From Sicily to Ellis Island.

Max:

I know.

Eva:

The Chicago River to a farm in Maine, and it's so much more than just a tomato.

Max:

It's a story about food security, cultural heritage, even climate change.

Eva:

You know, it all started with that one guy just trying to hold on to a taste of home.

Max:

And it reminds us that we can all make a difference. What heirloom seeds, what food traditions exist in your family? Is there a recipe that's been passed down? A special fruit from your grandma's garden?

Eva:

Maybe just a story about a dish that makes you feel at home.

Max:

Whatever it is, explore it.

Eva:

Yeah, talk to your relatives.

Max:

Dig into your family history. You never know what you might find.

Eva:

You might even feel inspired to start saving seeds yourself.

Max:

You could become part of this movement.

Eva:

Help protect our culinary heritage.

Max:

That's right. So thanks for joining us on this deep dive.

Eva:

It's been a pleasure.

Max:

We hope you learned something new.

Eva:

We hope you feel inspired.

Max:

And maybe even a little bit hungry, a little bit, until next time.

Eva:

Happy digging everyone.

Natalie Zett:

Hey, that's it for this episode and thanks for coming along for the ride. Please subscribe or follow so you can keep up with all the episodes, and for more information, please go to my website, that's wwwflowerintherivercom wwwflowerintherivercom. I hope you'll consider buying my book, available as audiobook, ebook, paperback and hardcover, because I still owe people money and that's my running joke. But the one thing I'm serious about is that this podcast and my book are dedicated to the memory of all who experienced the Eastland disaster of 1915. Goodbye for now.

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Natalie Zett

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