A couple of comments to your excellent post.
While I disagree with some of your procedures, it's nothing I can't live with. A matter of different strokes, rather than right and wrong. For instance, I see no reason to use rooting hormone if the seedling has been raised properly. But, then again, Carolyn Male and I argue over procedures and methods as well, so you're in good company.
Basically, it boils down to the way my buddy Roger Postley starts his tomato-growing seminars and workshops: "There is," he insists, "absolutely only one right way to grow a tomato plant," (long pause), "And that's the way that works best for you."
What I do object to is this: suffered by our chemical farming neighbors. I've devoted a lot of time and energy educating gardeners to the fact that anything they put on or in the soil is a chemical (such as that dihydrousmonooxylate you pour on your garden every couple of days). And that if all 16 necessary nutrients are present in soluble form, the plant doesn't care whether they come from manure or Monsanto. So, in future, if you'd use the term "synthetic" or "synthetic (fertilizer, insecticide, fungicide, whateverside)" rather than "chemical" I'd appreciate it.
They split easily because they have a more delicate skin and fruit structure.
Here you are generalizing from a relatively small sample. Of the 6,000 or so named heirloom and other open pollinated tomatoes do you really believe there are none with thick skins? None with tough fruit structure? None that do not have superlative flavor? I guarantee there are several in each of those categories.
Generally speaking, heirlooms (particularly those we now call "family herilooms") were maintained because they had great flavor. That's true. But there are other criteria that were used as well. Thicker skinned tomatoes, for instance, were preferred for canning. Large Red wasn't dropped by canners because it had thick skin, but because of its large, fluted shoulders which made processing difficult. And for a real eye opener, check out the thickness and toughness on the skin of Krasnodar Titans.
There are others that we continue to grow because of their historical worth, rather than because of their flavor and texture. Yellow Pear cherry tomatoes, for instance, are very thick skinned and relatively tasteless. But they go back at least to 1750. And, to be fair, they look real pretty on a plate, which is why upscale chefs jumped on them when they were rediscovered in the 1980s,
The Little White cucumber is as close to tasteless as a vegetable can be. But it's historical value (Jefferson grew and popularized it) makes it worth preserving. In fact, there is evidence that the line in my collection came from Jefferson, and I'll continue maintaining it for that reason. But I don't eat the bland things.
I bring this up because there is a real danger in making claims that are easily repudiated. It opens the door for those on the opposite side of the discussion to disclaim your whole argument.
It's the same as the claim that vegetables grown organically taste better than those grown using synthetics. As soon as I disprove that patently false claim I can then use it to show that all the organic claims are BS. There are, to be sure, numerous very good reasons why organic growing makes sense. But better-tasting produce is not one of them.
What I'm saying is that being zealous is one thing. Just don't let your enthusiasm lead you in the wrong direction and, thus, provide armament for the anti-organics, anti-open pollinated, pro-frankenfood proponents.