Tomato Squared

The snake lady at the Discovery Center wasn’t the only person who recommended Tomato, Tomato. There was also that family at the Kids’ Castle playground who spoke highly of the place. And of course, there were the readers of The Murfreesboro Post, who voted Tomato, Tomato the city’s best pizza restaurant in an online poll last month. So with all that buzz, we figured we’d make a pilgrimage about 40 minutes south to Mitchell and Mollie Murphree’s newest venture.

After bursting onto Murfreesboro’s dining scene three years ago with Five Senses, the Murphree siblings launched Tomato, Tomato (pronounced To-MAY-to, To-MAH-to, like the Gershwins’ song) in October. Mollie oversaw the revamping of the corner building one block off the Public Square, which formerly housed Greek and Mexican establishments, while Mitchell set about translating the culinary philosophy of their upscale Five Senses into the family-friendly vernacular of pizza. The result is a cheery eatery of two dining rooms with simple pop colors, paper-covered tables and a menu of wine, beer, pasta, salads, sandwiches and innovative pizza combinations named for the streets of downtown Murfreesboro.

An alumnus of B. McNeel’s in Murfreesboro and a graduate of the Culinary Institute of America in Hyde Park, N.Y., and the University of Tennessee, Mitchell cut his cooking teeth at Tomato Head in Knoxville, where he got his first taste of nontraditional topping combinations. The Downtown Specialty pizzas at Tomato, Tomato wear an unexpected array of flavors, from white beans to truffle oil. Regardless of the accoutrements, Tomato, Tomato starts out with a superior dough. Hand-tossed and flavored with a drizzle of honey in lieu of the more common sugar, the thin crust picks up a delicately crisp golden-brown patina in the brick oven, as well as a slightly chewy texture, a marriage that makes it worth eating even when the prize toppings have been picked off.

The Murphrees, who are prone to sending out email updates about the latest seasonal arrivals at Five Senses—everything from soft-shell crabs to Tennessee morels—apply their commitment to fresh and seasonal ingredients at their new establishment. As much as 90 percent of the produce comes from local farmers, says Mitchell, who spends his days at the pizza store before clocking in at Five Senses in the evenings. Mitchell and Chad White make the focaccia, pizza dough and other breads daily.

Navigating the restaurant’s edible map of Murfreesboro, we particularly enjoyed the College Street pizza. Topped with a subtle base of red sauce and a decadent layering of cheeses—mozzarella for gooeyness, Jack for depth of flavor and Swiss for nuttiness—the pizza showcases an earthy medley of shiitake, cremini, button and portobello mushrooms. 

The similarly simple Walnut Street layered taleggio with garlic and truffle oils for a molten mouthful of deep, rich flavors that we did not expect from such a barren canvas.

On the other hand, we were lured in by several creative combinations that unfortunately did not taste as good as they sounded. For example, the Vine Street—spicy black bean sauce, jerk chicken, fresh pineapple and cilantro pesto—intrigued us with its promise of peppery heat and fresh citrus. But the overriding sensation was the dusty finish of mushed black beans, which trumped any of the clean flavors. Further proving that you shouldn’t serve beans on bread was the Maney Avenue, with country ham, white beans, garlic oil, red onions and smoked cheddar. While the whole white beans offered an innovative, almost pearly texture, the heavy bean bulk smothered all flavors other than salt.

With a pantry ranging from goat cheese and baked tofu to fresh mozzarella and white anchovies, Tomato, Tomato offers a build-your-own option in 9- and 14-inch sizes, in addition to personal pizzas for kids and a lunch combo with salad and a slice. All the pizzas get a sprinkle of fresh Parmesan cheese for a rich, nutty finish.

Venturing off the pizza map, we ordered a hot country ham dip with flatbread crackers, which was a universal disappointment at our table of adults and children. The sandwich of roasted pork tenderloin piled gray slices of moist but flavorless meat onto a bolillo—a Mexican-style loaf akin to a baguette. While the airy bread with a delicate crust was lovely in and of itself, it was not enough to rescue the drab sandwich, which went virtually uneaten, as did the flavorless side of pasta salad.

By contrast, our table devoured a bowl of chicken pasta with spinach, mushrooms, tomato-cream sauce and Parmesan cheese. The hollow spirals of pasta were dressed just enough to coat them without being overwhelmed by a giant pool sauce. Tender chicken and leaves of baby spinach punctuated the bowl of tongue-twisting springs for a meal that was every bit as child-friendly and comforting as mac-and-cheese, with the added benefit of being delicious to an even pickier adult palate.

The same could be said for the roster of homemade desserts. On one visit, we ordered all four offerings, including homemade pound cake with berries, a blonde brownie with ice cream and an outstanding crème brûlée. But it was the chocolate mousse, presented in an old-fashioned stemmed sundae glass and topped with peaks of fluffy whipped cream and homemade shortbread medallions, that seduced our crew, or, more accurately, incited war among ankle-biters, all of whom wanted the “moose.”