This article is part of our Cocktail Chatter series, where we dive into the wild, weird, and wondrous corners of history to share over a cocktail and impress your friends.
Despite the world’s general familiarity with the concept of a “food fight,” we almost never see them take place in real life. But on some occasions, the food fight transcends Disney Channel Original movies and coming-of-age high school flicks and enters reality in a controlled environment. There’s Italy’s Carnival of Ivrea, a.k.a. the Battle of the Oranges. There’s Spain’s Haro Wine Festival, which entails an early-morning, purple stain-laden wine fight. But the biggest and arguably most infamous of them all is La Tomatina, a tomato-fueled brawl that goes down in Buñol, Spain every August.
During La Tomatina, Buñol’s population more than doubles for a day as tourists travel from all corners of the globe to pelt each other with everyone’s favorite summertime crop. But what is now an internationally renowned hodgepodge of produce-flinging started off by utter circumstance.
A Festival Gone Awry
La Tomatina’s origins harken back to August 1945. Buñol was hosting its Giants and Big-Heads figures parade to honor the martyred religious figure San Fermín when a group of youngsters showed up to stir up some mischief. Allegedly, as the parade made its way through the town square, a young attendee’s energy overwhelmed one of the participants, causing his large head mask to fall off. This sent the participant into a fit of rage. Parade attendees flocked to a nearby fruit stand, raided it, and began hurling tomatoes at each other until law enforcement officials eventually broke up the madness.
The Slow Burn of Tradition
At the following year’s festivities, a band of people engaged in another tomato fight, but this time they brought their produce from home. Yet again, local forces interfered and halted the antics. The food fight must have been pretty fun, though, as the unofficial event repeated itself and garnered more participants each year, quickly growing beyond the 1,000-person mark.
Of course, dark ages are mandatory if you want a renaissance. In the early 1950s, the then-prime minister of Spain, Francisco Franco, banned La Tomatina due to its lack of religious significance. Many people disregarded the ban and were promptly arrested once the tomato tossing commenced. The tomato advocates soon realized that fighting fire with tomatoes wasn’t the answer, so they resorted to peaceful protest.
Let Them Throw Tomatoes
This brings us to La Tomatina’s saving grace: the tomato funeral of 1957. Residents of Buñol marched through the streets carrying a coffin containing a large tomato, accompanied by a band playing traditional Spanish funeral songs. Presumably touched by the heartfelt display of tomato admiration, the Spanish government decided to lift the ban and make La Tomatina an official festival.
Over the next 26 years, La Tomatina’s attendance grew steadily, but its fame soared to new heights when news broadcaster Javier Basilio famously aired a snippet about the festival in 1983. Having reached TV screens all over Spain, more people were made aware of the existence of La Tomatina, and soon, word got out to the rest of the world.
In 2002, Spain’s Ministry of Tourism declared the festival a “Fiesta of International Tourist Interest.” Ten years later, the festival attracted roughly 40,000 attendees, earning it the Guinness World Records title of “largest annual food fight” the following year. Ever since, the festival has become a ticketed event with a max capacity of 20,000 participants, which is probably for the best.
For those who do decide to make the pilgrimage to Buñol, know that literally tons of tomatoes are provided and the whole shebang typically lasts about an hour. When the tomato-slinging stops, fire trucks come in to hose down the streets. You will be covered head-to-toe in tomato pulp. You will be down 15 euros. And you will be happy you experienced it. Viva La Tomatina!
*Image retrieved from flydime via Wikimedia Commons
