It turns out almost everything I thought I knew from tomato folk-lore was wrong.
Tomatoes originated in Mexico: wrong.
Our early ancestors thought they were poisonous: mostly wrong. Or aphrodisiac: wrong.
That opinions were changed when a man named Johnson ate tomatoes in a public display, where hundreds of people had gathered expecting to see him die: wrong.
The facts, as related in Andrew Smith's "The Tomato in America," are more interesting, although related too repetitively and carelessly edited.
It appears that tomatoes -- or tomatas as the word was usually written up to the 1830s -- were well established as a food in some parts of the English colonies around the time of Declaration of Independence, like South Carolina. They were also eaten in the British Isles, usually with salt, pepper and oil -- novices were instructed that they could be eaten "like cucumbers."
However, the tomato/tomata had a gaudier career in the new republic. It was not just a food but a medicine, and there was a lively war over tomato pills in the 1830s, followed by a tomato mania which, if not as fabulous as the Dutch tulip frenzy, lasted longer.
Smith includes a big selection of early tomato recipes, which for the most part comprised equal parts tomatoes and sugar, cooked to a goo. The results sound gag-inducing to a modern palate.
Smith's book was published by the University of South Carolina Press in 1994, and that press may have been interested because South Carolina was where tomatoes really got established in what later became the United States (although they were eaten in the old Spanish Southwest, too). It was reissued in 2001 by the University of Illinois Press, the only time I have ever noticed one university press picking up a recent title from another.