Tomato Cheong Is My New Summer Obsession

My obsession started with, as with all things these days, a TikTok video. Let me preface the following with an apology to that original creator, as they’re lost to me like a drop in the ocean. It’s because of them that I first learned about cheong, Korean for “syrup,” and one click later it was all over my FYP—I incepted myself, and was simply compelled to make the stuff. Now, cheong is a must-have in my fridge at all times.

Traditionally made with fruit and sugar, cheong is a simple method for preserving your seasonal fruit haul. Simply layer equal parts clean fruit and sugar in a sterilized jar, and then let maceration take its course. We’re talking any fruit: I’ve seen cheong made with lemons, strawberries, blueberries, even dragonfruit and unripe plums. Over a few days and up to a few weeks, the sugar extracts the fruit’s juices, creating a rich, textured syrup with deeply concentrated flavors. The resulting liquid is often brightly colored and can be used to sweeten hot or iced tea, added to cocktails, or mixed into sauces or vinaigrettes.

After making my initial batches of lemon, strawberry and persimmon cheongs, I became obsessed with the stuff. I love it in yogurt parfaits, on waffles and pancakes, over ice cream, or simply to sweeten some seltzer. Just give me a reason.

Last summer, I ended up with more cherry tomatoes than I knew what to do with, so naturally I broke out a scale and some sugar to make a batch of cheong. The natural acidity and sweetness of tomatoes made them the ideal candidate to transform in this way. I washed my jars and my ’maters, weighed my fruit, and then weighed out an equal amount of white sugar in a separate bowl. (The 1:1 ratio is easy to remember; for instance, 16 ounces tomatoes to 16 ounces sugar.) I sliced the tomatoes up to help them macerate more quickly and then layered the fruit and sugar in my jars. After that, it was hands-off: I just let the mixture hang out in a jar in the pantry for a few days to about a week, giving it a daily stir. (I transferred it to the fridge at this point, as I’m generally nervous about room-temp anything, but many leave their cheong out for much longer.)

After a few days, I strained off the syrup, saving the remaining tomato skins to candy as they dried on a lined cookie sheet for a few hours—a nice garnish for future cocktails. The resulting syrup tasted like a garden, verdant and leafy green. It balanced savory and sweet, with an unexpected tanginess I loved. The color itself was the most lovely shade of blush, like the last couple minutes of sunset before the sun dips below the horizon.

What did I do with this rose gold syrup? I used it in lieu of olive brine for an update on tomato water martinis. I mixed it into lemonade. I even played around with vinaigrettes for charcuterie boards, the cheong and vinegar playing nicely with each other when drizzled over cheeses like burrata or ricotta toast.

While I never get bored of tomatoes, especially when it’s peak season, tomato cheong has offered me myriad opportunities to incorporate those sunshiny vibes into everyday dishes, and it’s my new go-to source for sweet, bottled whimsy. All because of TikTok.