MY MORNING FRUITS : MARCH 14, 2007

When I was young, I never much liked fruit. I suppose like any kid I liked the staple type of summer fruits—watermelon, juicy peaches, and the occasional handful of raspberries. For me, fruit seemed like a food with an intense amount of labor associated with it. Even watermelon had to be eaten outdoors so the seeds could be spat onto the lawn. Cherries, too, had pits that had to be avoided. I never enjoyed the flavor of bananas, and oranges had all that white pith to remove before they could be enjoyed. I wouldn’t say I was picky, but I was definitely more of a veggie girl (in fact, I still am!).

My sister, Amy, and I reminisced with my dad the other night. We remembered the “snack trays” he used to make for us every night when we were young. While we watched our pre-bedtime T.V. shows like Road to Avonlea or Rugrats, my dad would faithfully and dutifully work his magic with a small paring knife upstairs in the kitchen. Every single night sometime around seven o’clock, my dad would bring our small “snack trays” down the stairs. Simpletons that we were, we had no idea that these special little trays were nothing more than deep Tupperware lids filled with commonplace little foods from our kitchen. However, my dad, with his imagination as active as always, never ceased to find ways to dazzle us with his special little creations.

He made us “roll-ups”, which were veggies rolled in a Kraft Single or a thin slice of lunch meat. Our favorite veggie fillings were long string beans or thinly cut strips of carrots. Once in a while a quarter of a dill pickle would delight us from inside the tiny roll. Apples were another staple of the snack tray; Dad reminded us just this week that apples were included every single night. However, as you might expect, the appeal of regular apples started to wear off for us after not so long. So, to get us to keep eating our fruit, my dad would cut the apples into various shapes, convincing us that they were altogether different fruits. I still remember, as I mentioned to him this week, what he used to call “cucumber apples”; he would core and peel an apple and then cut it into little apple rings. Because we were tired of apples but loved cucumbers, he convinced Amy and I that these special types of apples grew into these little cucumber-shaped rings and were, in fact, not apples but cucumbers. We were sold. We loved apples again.

To this day, apples have remained my favorite fruit. I often joke that I was always meant to be a teacher since I eat at least one apple every day. Oranges, bananas, and more exotic types of fruit have yet to grow on me, though. And, I’m still more of a veggie kind of girl who would rather eat a handful of cauliflower than a mango any day.

When I met my husband, Derek, I started to feel a bit of fruit guilt come on again. He and his family were major fruit-a-holics. They consumed more fruit juice than anyone I’ve ever known, and they were just crazy for cherries, blueberries, mangos, and all sorts of other exotic fruits. They would mix fruit into their pancake batter, eat it with their salads, and have it alone for dessert. In order to fit in, I knew I would have to like fruit, too.

I started trying bananas again. I still hated them. I hid them in things like smoothies and peanut butter sandwiches, trying hard not to notice their potent, ripe taste. Sometime this year, I found out I have become allergic to bananas. I still eat them occasionally to “get my potassium” (as my dad would always urge), but when I do, my mouth and throat get itchy and tight. I am told this is a common allergic reaction for people to have to raw fruits and vegetables. I am also told it is merely uncomfortable and usually causes no harm. I could go on eating bananas, I’m sure, but why subject myself to the discomfort? I have officially quit eating them on their own. Sometimes when I hear medical reports of the power of the mind over the body, I secretly wonder if somehow my hatred of bananas made me become allergic to them …

I’ve retried mangos repeatedly but still cannot stand that pungent, piney sort of flavor, even in ice cream or mousse. Blueberries are good for me, I know, but I can’t bring myself to enjoy them.

I have managed to wean myself onto all sorts of melons and citrus fruits, though. I find cranberries divine and pineapple heavenly. When I heard one kiwi fruit could provide me with an entire day’s worth of my daily recommended Vitamin C content, I decided I should start liking them. Kiwis now frequent my fridge on a weekly basis. Two little swipes with a spoon, and I am loaded up with all my needed Vitamin C! I confess I quite like their tangy flavor and don’t mind crunching the tiny little black seeds in between my front teeth once I’m through eating the vibrant green flesh.

My newest love is for red grapes. I could still pass up their sour relative, green grapes, but I can eat an entire bushel of red grapes if I’m not careful. The price of them has dropped now that spring is coming, and I’ve been eating them non-stop for the past few days. Last night I washed and plucked another bunch of them, leaving them in the fridge for their skins to crisp up.

This morning, while reading emails, I caught a sunbeam in my office, a small plate of fresh kiwi and crispy red grapes at my side. There could not have been a more pleasant start to my morning. I suppose maybe I do like fruit, after all.

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