Have you ever wondered why we all have—or know someone with—a tomato pincushion? What is the purpose of that little thing hanging from it? Don’t worry; I hyper-fixated on this so you didn’t have to! The full explanation and references are in my Curious Crafter blog in case you don’t want to take my word for it.
The tomato is a staple of the American diet, but did you know that Europeans didn’t have tomatoes until the Spanish colonized our southern neighbor in the 16th century? The Italians got the tomato from that, so the delicious tomato sauce we smother on pasta wouldn’t exist without colonization. Awkward.
Yes, I did have to research this because the pincushion blogs I read had so much mixed information that I literally went and researched the history of the tomato. Northern Europeans didn’t accept the tomato for more than 200 years later. Why? Spanish and Italian botanists originally categorized the strange new plant as a nightshade. Although they realized it wasn’t poisonous, the rest of Europe opted to use it as an ornamental plant, much like we do with flowers every spring.
They thought eating tomatoes might poison you or, worse, turn you into a witch or a werewolf. Ha ha ha.
Then there’s the part where the blogs I read on pincushions don’t quite align with history. The story of the tomato goes like this: if you moved into a new home, you were to carry a tomato in and place it on your mantle or windowsill to bring prosperity and ward off evil spirits. When tomatoes weren’t in season, people made cloth versions in the shape of tomatoes and realized they could use them to hold pins. Thus, the tomato pincushion was born.
This story is referenced by many crafting blogs, but I couldn’t find historical records to back it up. It seems odd that a forbidden food would then become a symbol of quite the opposite. But I’ll let you form your own conclusions.
One thing is for sure: the pincushion historically was used for both pins and needles.
Now, what is that thing dangling from it? A strawberry or a chili pepper? This was not covered in any craft blog. No one could find a source for it, but I did.
It makes sense to our modern palates that it would be a chili, but when you find the actual truth, even I had to agree: it’s a strawberry. My research flipped my opinion. It is, in fact, filled with emery powder to sharpen and remove rust from old needles, and it was mass-produced well before the tomato pincushion.
My conclusion is that they were a marriage of convenience. You could use the same fabrics, and they worked well together. Simple as that.
Let me know what you think in the comments.
Recently, I posted a short video of myself cutting open a tomato pincushion to find my missing needles.. it's currently at almost 2 million views on Tiktok.
CLICK LINK TO VIEW VIDEO ON OUR TIKTOK (NOT SPAM PROMISE) https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTNgEb7pV/
Little did I know that this last-minute video would spark so much controversy in the crafting community. The realization of how many people have tomatoes as pincushions was overwhelming; why do we all have them? Is the attached piece a strawberry or a chili pepper, and do you use it to sharpen or store your needles?
So, like any curious crafter, I hit Google and read some blogs. After about five blogs on the tomato pincushion, I started to notice similar stories without any factual references besides other craft blogs. It felt like a game of telephone, where facts and timelines kept getting stretched or twisted until I had no clue what was true.
This led me off blogs and deep into historical records of the actual plants themselves. Yes, I did that for a pincushion; I had to know. Now I have a better idea, and now you do too! I will be adding all my reference links at the end. If you feel something is off, you can check for yourself, because apparently, you shouldn’t take a blog post as factual.
Now that you have the backstory, here is the story of the tomato pincushion and that little thing hanging from it.
To start, we must talk about the tomato in Europe. It was brought over from the Americas a long time ago, after Spain colonized our southern neighbors in the 16th century. The name “tomato” comes from the Aztecs’ word “tomatl.” Fun fact: it wasn’t commonly known as the tomato until around 1900. What!?
The first tomato sauce recipe was published in Italy in 1692. So, without colonization, Italy wouldn’t have tomato sauce. Awkward.
In the 18th century, Northern Europe still wouldn’t adopt tomatoes for fear they were deadly poisonous nightshades. Keep in mind, this was also when they were burning women as witches. The nightshade classification was given to tomatoes by Spanish and Italian botanists centuries earlier, after reading about a plant from a Greek philosopher describing a “wolf’s peach,” which seemed similar enough. Obviously, the Greeks knew about all plants around the world. Duh. Finding this out, I questioned the references talking about Greek gods eating tomatoes, wondering if it was a different plant altogether, but I didn’t dive into that black hole—I had a pincushion mystery to solve!
Back to the superstitious Northern Europeans, nightshades were associated with fears of witchcraft, which was a big no-no. So, to be safe, the English did not eat them, fearing they might turn into werewolves.
The English started cultivating tomatoes in the early 19th century, using them as ornamental plants like we grow flowers today. Apparently, they liked their plants pretty and dangerously within reach. Now, don’t laugh at my European ancestors. I’m sure you can eat many things in your yard that you’d never want to. Also, bringing this closer to my home, in New England (the original colonies of the United States), many people still believed tomatoes were poisonous up until the Civil War. Even today, if you Google “are tomato stems and leaves poisonous,” you’ll find information that may make you unsure about chomping on a tomato leaf.
It didn’t help the tomato’s reputation that Northern Europeans ate off pewter plates with high lead content. Combine that with the high acidity of tomatoes, and you get a mouthful of lead. Yum! This apparently drove people mad, or at least the rich ones.
Of course, history has its disagreements. Some say tomatoes are not acidic enough, pewter plates were not common enough, and lead poisoning would not come from a meal or two.
Tomatoes only became popular in England by the end of the 19th century, or the Victorian era (1837-1901). So I think that solves the “when” for the first tomato pincushion reference. If they didn’t really use tomatoes in Northern Europe before the Victorian era, I’m going to say they probably weren’t making them out of fabric scraps before this. I also couldn’t find any references to a tomato pincushion before the Victorian era, besides the craft blogs that didn’t provide sources. Actually finding references to tomato pincushions at the end of the 19th century was challenging. I even scrutinized paintings from that time showing women with sewing or pincushions. For these images, I found pillow pincushions or none at all.
Victorian Era Tomato Pincushion
According to the blogs I read, it was said that during the Victorian Era, many Europeans thought tomatoes brought good luck, love, and prosperity to a new home. So, make sure to carry a ripe tomato and place it on the mantel when first entering your new dwelling. If there is no fireplace mantel, a windowsill will do. This would ward off evil spirits.
Antique Victorian Velvet and Wool Tomato Pin Cushion
Since tomatoes were seasonal, it became popular to create tomato pincushions (by this time, pins were mass-produced and everyone sewed, unlike before when you had to be one fancy person to have a pin to hold your clothes together).
Now, here’s the odd part: the only reference I can find to this practice is related to sewing and pincushions. I can’t find this superstitious practice independent of discussions about pincushions. Is it a myth we continue to pass along like an old wives’ tale? How did it go from being poisonous for hundreds of years to being a sign of love, prosperity, and warding off evil? Either way, this is the tale we crafters tell over and over in any tomato pincushion story.
Antique Pincushion from Unknown Manufacturer Circa 1900s
So, what is that thing really hanging from the top of the tomato?
Everything says strawberry when you read pincushion blogs. No one knew or could find where it came from or why it was paired with the tomato. It made no sense to me—you wouldn’t normally plant a strawberry with a tomato, and they aren’t typically paired in recipes I know of. So why would they dangle a strawberry from a tomato? It made more sense to me that it was a chili, but I didn’t even know if they ate chilis in Northern Europe at that time. I did know they had small wild strawberries, thanks to Outlander, so that was the only thing that seemed to fit.
Time to research chili pepper origins. The chili plant was introduced to Europe around the same time as tomatoes, both coming from South America. Tomatoes and chilis are in many delicious recipes together. I also learned that chili peppers are known for being a love-inducing food. Wink, wink. Now that makes sense—it’s a chili! Or is it?
Emery Mold, Church Family, Mount Lebanon, NY, ca. 1845
This mold can be found in the Shaker Museum in Mount Lebanon, NY. It held a cloth bag filled with emery powder, sewn closed, and then covered to prevent leaking. While 1845 is technically within the Victorian Era, this is by no means the original mold. My research shows that tomatoes were not mainstream in England or North America until the late 1800s. This means that the strawberry emery may predate the tomato pincushion. While we don’t know exactly when the first tomato pincushion was made, it seems that the strawberry pincushion was mass-produced before the tomato version.
Sears Roebuck and Co. Catalog 1918
So, everything came together in my mind as to why they don’t make much sense together: they are just a red, glorious marriage of convenience. They’re easy to make using the same fabric materials.
If you find any pieces older than what I’ve found, let me know in the comments!
or if you enjoyed this information, and want to give back.. BUY US A COFFEE! ☕️
Copyright Disclosure
This crochet pattern is the property of MissEverLee Designs and is offered for free for personal use only. You are welcome to use this pattern to create and sell your finished crochet items. However, the pattern itself, in whole or in part, may not be sold, redistributed, or republished in any form.
If you would like to share this pattern with others, please direct them to our website or to the corresponding YouTube video. Thank you for respecting our creative work!
References:
photo by MARIANNE RIXHON: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-shot-of-a-red-pincushion-beside-a-thimble-6856221/
Comments