Saturday, June 6th, 2015 04:32 pm
my relationship with food is fraught with selective amnesia
Case in point:
Wandering through Central Market looking for Candycots (where are they? IT IS TIME) and bubblegum grapes, and satisfied myself with brie, pretentious bread (because Central Market), apriums, champagne mangos, and cherries were back and oh.
Okay.
When I was growing up, cherries weren't delicious, they were crappy at the local grocery store, tiny and hard and vaguely blandly sour. Then I grew up and lo, the grocery stores had the good ones, the plump dark red ones with a sheen that you'd happily sell your soul for a lifetime supply (or maybe that's just me), and just as importantly, these go on sale during the summer to the point where it's a crime not to buy them. We're on the leading edge, so they're still not hitting 'five pounds of cherries every time they enter our line of sight', but suffice to say, time to get started.
Which is fine, but I always forget you kind of have to pace yourself after months without them. And by "I forget" I mean no matter how many years I've spent on this earth, I forget every time the cardinal rule of 'do not fucking buy a pound of cherries and eat them half of them on the way home after a multi-month-long dry spell waiting for cherry season.'
Body: You sure about this, Sep?
Me: *sucking cherry off the seed* Fuck off.
Body: We'll talk later. Have fun with that.
Later:
[redacted]
Body: I told you so.
[redacted]
[redacted]
[redacted]
[expunged]
Me: *gets rest of cherries*
Body: ...you're kidding, right?
Me: *sucking cherry off the seed* Fuck off.
Repeat ad infinitum.
As I once realized to my horror, I could be the first documented case of someone killing themselves disgustingly with prunes, for given a bag of them, I will eat them all; given a warehouse, I won't survive and I pity the person who finds my body. I don't just like them; I will eat until they're gone or I am.
I have very selective and stupid fruit weaknesses. I can live without apples, most citrus, pears, whatever. But Turkish apricots (dried), bubblegum grapes, east Texas raspberries, blueberries, cherries, candycots, locally grown Texas peaches, cloudberries, figs, dates, currants, prunes, I treat like Schedule One drugs. I will walk over your body after stabbing you to get to them, and given an unlimited supply, I won't ever move again from my fruit paradise.
If I were a supervillian, this is how I'd be caught; the stupidest trap in the world baited with a fruit medley. Take me to Arkham, fine, but I got a metric ton of fruit to finish and I will cut you if you disturb me before I'm done. Throw in some fried plantains in the Arkham kitchen with honey mustard and honestly, I might not want to leave.
Reference:
Candycots - they're as close as you can get in this world to processed sugar in fruity apricot form and what the gods really want while miserably chugging nectar and ambrosia. These are amazing, is what I'm saying, and in Texas, they're sold in ridiculous sets of twelve in plastic because wisely, Central Market with coffee bean bar get it yourself and leaves open containers of other, lesser fruits in the fruit section for snacking knows those Candycots would all be gone--all of them--in under fifteen minutes (if I'm there, five, after considerable bloodshed, for the Candycot gods sometimes require a sacrifice to prove your love).
I'm going to warn you now; if you taste these, think the White Witch and the disappointment of Turkish Delight. If she'd offered Edmund Candycots, everyone on earth would not only completely understand but approve of Edmund's actions because Candycots.
You won't recover from this, and nothing in your life will ever satisfy you like these will; you will spend the rest of your life vaguely unsatisfied with all things for you have seen perfection and what's the point: Monet, Picasso, David, Statue of Liberty, Taj Mahal, the Wonders of the World, nice, I guess, but does the taste of them make you believe for a moment you're a god on earth and all you see is your demesne? Does spacetime warp around you and you understand the perfection which man has strived for over endless generations; did they give you a glimpse of infinity in all its vastness?
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. <--Corinthians speaketh of Candycots.
You can't taste paint and rock, you say? So the answer is no.
And by the pound, they cost more than heroin, which is no surprise at all.
These go on sale in San Francisco at the Farmers market next weekend, and by the way, fuck you San Francisco.
...someone there send me some? Please?
Wandering through Central Market looking for Candycots (where are they? IT IS TIME) and bubblegum grapes, and satisfied myself with brie, pretentious bread (because Central Market), apriums, champagne mangos, and cherries were back and oh.
Okay.
When I was growing up, cherries weren't delicious, they were crappy at the local grocery store, tiny and hard and vaguely blandly sour. Then I grew up and lo, the grocery stores had the good ones, the plump dark red ones with a sheen that you'd happily sell your soul for a lifetime supply (or maybe that's just me), and just as importantly, these go on sale during the summer to the point where it's a crime not to buy them. We're on the leading edge, so they're still not hitting 'five pounds of cherries every time they enter our line of sight', but suffice to say, time to get started.
Which is fine, but I always forget you kind of have to pace yourself after months without them. And by "I forget" I mean no matter how many years I've spent on this earth, I forget every time the cardinal rule of 'do not fucking buy a pound of cherries and eat them half of them on the way home after a multi-month-long dry spell waiting for cherry season.'
Body: You sure about this, Sep?
Me: *sucking cherry off the seed* Fuck off.
Body: We'll talk later. Have fun with that.
Later:
[redacted]
Body: I told you so.
[redacted]
[redacted]
[redacted]
[expunged]
Me: *gets rest of cherries*
Body: ...you're kidding, right?
Me: *sucking cherry off the seed* Fuck off.
Repeat ad infinitum.
As I once realized to my horror, I could be the first documented case of someone killing themselves disgustingly with prunes, for given a bag of them, I will eat them all; given a warehouse, I won't survive and I pity the person who finds my body. I don't just like them; I will eat until they're gone or I am.
I have very selective and stupid fruit weaknesses. I can live without apples, most citrus, pears, whatever. But Turkish apricots (dried), bubblegum grapes, east Texas raspberries, blueberries, cherries, candycots, locally grown Texas peaches, cloudberries, figs, dates, currants, prunes, I treat like Schedule One drugs. I will walk over your body after stabbing you to get to them, and given an unlimited supply, I won't ever move again from my fruit paradise.
If I were a supervillian, this is how I'd be caught; the stupidest trap in the world baited with a fruit medley. Take me to Arkham, fine, but I got a metric ton of fruit to finish and I will cut you if you disturb me before I'm done. Throw in some fried plantains in the Arkham kitchen with honey mustard and honestly, I might not want to leave.
Reference:
Candycots - they're as close as you can get in this world to processed sugar in fruity apricot form and what the gods really want while miserably chugging nectar and ambrosia. These are amazing, is what I'm saying, and in Texas, they're sold in ridiculous sets of twelve in plastic because wisely, Central Market with coffee bean bar get it yourself and leaves open containers of other, lesser fruits in the fruit section for snacking knows those Candycots would all be gone--all of them--in under fifteen minutes (if I'm there, five, after considerable bloodshed, for the Candycot gods sometimes require a sacrifice to prove your love).
I'm going to warn you now; if you taste these, think the White Witch and the disappointment of Turkish Delight. If she'd offered Edmund Candycots, everyone on earth would not only completely understand but approve of Edmund's actions because Candycots.
You won't recover from this, and nothing in your life will ever satisfy you like these will; you will spend the rest of your life vaguely unsatisfied with all things for you have seen perfection and what's the point: Monet, Picasso, David, Statue of Liberty, Taj Mahal, the Wonders of the World, nice, I guess, but does the taste of them make you believe for a moment you're a god on earth and all you see is your demesne? Does spacetime warp around you and you understand the perfection which man has strived for over endless generations; did they give you a glimpse of infinity in all its vastness?
For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. <--Corinthians speaketh of Candycots.
You can't taste paint and rock, you say? So the answer is no.
And by the pound, they cost more than heroin, which is no surprise at all.
These go on sale in San Francisco at the Farmers market next weekend, and by the way, fuck you San Francisco.
...someone there send me some? Please?
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From:...why yes I'm an evil enabler, why do you ask? ;-)
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From:*cries while hitting buy*
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From:(We shall not speak of the nine pounds of cranberries and four pounds of blueberries in my tiny freezer. Other people horde gold, I horde cranberries.)
Also, prunes.
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From:Blackberries and raspberries--there's a place in East Texas where you go pick your own, and to this day, I've never tasted anything better (and not just because a goodly amount were probably christened with my blood; those plants were sharp). My favorite is when you freeze them immediately after picking or buying when they're still fresh so they don't clump together and snack on them when it's hot.
I have so many recipes for fruit desserts I've never tried because they don't last long enough.
So that's not just me. I have two amazing tart recipes I got from friends and I have yet to even get to the pastry stage, as allll the fruit is gone by the time I have free time.
There is a restaurant north of Lake Superior that is nothing but pie. Not lesser-fruit pie, either; we're talking all the berries, some in random and unbelievably amazing mixes. Nineteen kinds on hand at all times. Half of them fruit cream pies, half just fruit, fruit, fruit. I still dream about that restaurant and staring at the menu and thinking "so this is destiny".
Things I remember about this restaurant: lots of pies, beef pasty, north of Lake Superior, many trees (quite tall, even), some kind of creek (baby river?). And yet I am confident I could find it, because pie.
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From:http://iowagirleats.com/2014/06/04/mojito-fruit-salad-non-alcoholic/
Am going to try with alcohol, too. :D
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From:This is also where I discovered both tart cherry juice and cherry juice concentrate. (I like the Whole Foods cherry juice but recently HEB has started carrying L&H Tart Cherry Juice for roughly the same price.) Cherry juice concentrate is a wonderful, life-affirming liquid that allows you to make all sorts of amazing cherry-flavored drinks. Unfortunately since I am no longer visiting Michigan with any regularity I'm at the mercy of mail order and the shipping is...prohibitive.
And don't get me started on fresh berry season...
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From:But alas, I will probably never taste a Candycot.
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From:I can also put away an entire watermelon by myself in half an hour without blinking. And strawberries. Good god, never ever get between me and strawberries, it would not end well. In fact, I'm eating some right now.
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From:How much do you like your pears and plums and etc.?
Yeah, thinking about figs.
We could grow figs here. (Hey, I heard that scream of anguish over there, don't think I was ignoring you...)
I've seen places with old fig trees that had canopy spread twice the size of my entire house, it kind of gave me pause about just letting one run wild. I mean, where would all the other fruit trees get some light?
I do have this bias about peaches and nectarines.
And gee, people wonder why we bought a house with a larger lot than most, and why I swear and fight for improvements on our horribly rich clay soil, in a place it gets to be 102 degrees F that makes me sick as a fool dawg. Because the soil is clay, it will barely allow pear trees to survive the soggy winter.
You kind of start understanding why bother with all the agony when the plums are dropping off the branches, right about now.
Umm, yeah, these are Santa Rosa plums, not normally the kind you make into prunes, and there's enough total dissolved solids in these plums that eating *one* of them will send you inside to worship the porcelain gods for a couple days. I mean, the kind where the skin just pops apart when you bite it and you get juice all over your face, and that smart old hindbrain notes you are going to pay for this later.
Did I mention total dissolved solids are where the flavor is?
*hehehehe* so I built a huge raised bed so I could plant 4 kinds of cherry trees this year. In this cozy climate, the soil bacteria eat up organic material fast. Like roughly 3-4 inches in depth yer year. So, that's a lot of imported tonnage to make up for losing, all the time. I'm going to have to fight to keep these trees in a deep enough soil bed so they don't rot out sitting in water all winter. I mean, if we get any rain to speak of, which can be a problem too.
Ya know what?
Cherries.
Nectarines.
Red Baron Peaches.
I wanted an Aprium or Candycot tree, but didn't buy it soon enough. Maybe next year, once I see how these trees are doing.
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From:WA is cherry country; cherries and apples, and early fall is bliss for apples (honeycrisp omg) but right now it's cherry season and I will totally gorge. We get the dark red bing cherries out here but we ALSO get Rainier cherries, which are amazing and lighter than the dark red cherries and so good omg now I want Rainier cherries. I may have to run out to the store.
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From:I've never had candycots or bubblegum grapes. But I'm not a big fan of peaches and apricots, so it could be a case of my eye passing right over the package without stopping. (My grandparents used to live in a house with peach trees and blackberry vines out back. My sister loved the peaches, but I was after the blackberries. Grandmama made magnificent cobbler from both.)
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