Despite tomatoes’ ubiquity today, their popularity in Egypt is a recent phenomenon. Native to the Americas, they were widely cultivated in the Nile Valley by the 19th century and became available year-round to Egyptian consumers in the 20th. Today, Egypt consistently ranks among the world’s top producers of tomatoes, nearly all of which are consumed domestically.

When I first moved to Cairo, I encountered tomatoes everywhere—in street foods, cookbooks, family recipes, and local markets. In subsequent years, when I returned to conduct research on (and in) Egyptian kitchens, I watched home cooks use them for garnishes and stuffings, in salads, to stew meats and vegetables, and even as a seasoning—grated into a dish for a bright punch of acidity.

When I first moved to Cairo, I encountered tomatoes everywhere—in street foods, cookbooks, family recipes, and local markets. In subsequent years, when I returned to conduct research on (and in) Egyptian kitchens, I watched home cooks use them for garnishes and stuffings, in salads, to stew meats and vegetables, and even as a seasoning—grated into a dish for a bright punch of acidity.

Despite tomatoes’ ubiquity today, their popularity in Egypt is a recent phenomenon. Native to the Americas, they were widely cultivated in the Nile Valley by the 19th century and became available year-round to Egyptian consumers in the 20th. Today, Egypt consistently ranks among the world’s top producers of tomatoes, nearly all of which are consumed domestically.

Tomatoes’ importance to Egyptian society extends beyond the realm of cuisine. They have long functioned as a “low-tech economic indicator of precarity”: an essential item that frequently strains the household budgets of ordinary people.