Known as “love apple” when it was first introduced to Europe—most likely because of its alleged aphrodisiac qualities—the current name for this New World fruit derives from the Aztec xitomatl, meaning “plump thing with a navel.” The tomato, from its voluptuous contours to its sweetly fragrant juices, is rife with sensuality. Gorge on them while you can; many heirloom varieties are still abundant in kitchen gardens and at local farmers’ markets.

Arguably nothing is better than a tomato sandwich: two slices of delicious bread, not too thick and lightly toasted, slathered with mayonnaise and filled with sliced tomatoes. Aside from salt, anything else is gilding the lily, though there are vocal proponents of bacon and even avocado. Another classic is the Caprese salad, that ideal showcase for the tomato that calls for supporting slices of milky fresh mozzarella, judiciously placed leaves of basil and a few catalyzing swirls of extra-virgin olive oil. Italians also know the utter perfection of a tomato sauce that requires enough of that olive oil to make a creamy emulsion and a hint of garlic to cut through the lush sweetness. Blend yours and push it through a fine strainer for a silky smooth consistency that’s made to cloak pasta.

It’s no coincidence that a tomato’s ideal companions peak at the same time. Mix a fine dice of raw zucchini, shallots and fresh herbs with chopped tomato and lemon juice, then pile it all into a glass and top with a thick layer of mascarpone lightened with whipped egg white for the simple yet sophisticated French bistro staple known as a verrine. The ideal garnish? A slice of prosciutto crisped in a hot skillet adds the right salty crunch. In a smart move that shows you know the tomato is actually a fruit, pair it with wedges of peach for a salad that defies expectation. Add slivers of intoxicatingly aromatic Thai basil and lemon verbena, a bright splash of rice vinegar and a pinch each of salt and sugar. Serve this with steak or vanilla ice cream—or just keep it on the table throughout the entire meal.

Speaking of things both savory and sweet, a bounty of ripe tomatoes can easily be dispatched by cooking up a spicy tomato jam. More all-purpose chutney than breakfast spread, this inspired condiment is enlivened with jalapeño, red chile, fresh and crystallized ginger and a load of warming spices, including cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and cumin. If you’re not into canning, make a small batch to store in the fridge, but be duly warned that you will be slathering this on everything from a goat-cheese-topped cracker to a stack of hot zucchini pancakes. Another way to preserve the season is to dry halved tomatoes in the oven. Just squeeze out the seeds and leave the fruit, spread out on a baking sheet, in a 200-degree oven until it’s leathery but not brittle. A whopping seven pounds reduces down to a flavor-packed pint. Or simply blanch, remove the skins and freeze them by the dozen in large re-sealable freezer bags.

With fall coming on strong, tomatoes must sometimes be snatched from the vine while still green, but these unripe specimens have a tart charm all their own. Delicious in a chartreuse marmalade, green tomatoes are also firm enough to stand up to frying. When done right, a crisp cornmeal crust gives way to a creamy center whose lemony flavor is beautifully offset with a dollop of mayonnaise and a splash of hot sauce.

Act now, as the season is brief and what passes for a tomato in supermarkets come winter is at best a pale imitation.

Fried green tomatoes

Serves 4-6

4 large, firm green tomatoes

I cup all-purpose flour

2 large eggs

½ cup buttermilk

1 cup cornmeal

Lard, bacon fat or vegetable oil

Core tomatoes and cut into ½”-thick slices. Set aside.

Spread the flour on a plate and season with salt and pepper. Beat the eggs with the buttermilk in a medium bowl. Spread the cornmeal on another plate.

Heat about 1/4” of lard, bacon fat or vegetable oil over medium-high heat in a cast-iron skillet until almost smoking.

Meanwhile, dredge the tomato slices in the flour, shaking off any excess. Next, dip them in the egg mixture, letting excess run off, then dredge them in the cornmeal.

Slip slices into the hot oil in batches, so as not to crowd them. Cook about 2 minutes per side, until nicely browned. Transfer to a paper-towel-lined plate. Keep warm in a low oven as you fry the remaining slices.

Serve warm with mayonnaise, hot sauce or the condiment of your choice.