Category Archives: Food

On supermarket peaches

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I don’t mean to be snarky about this, but supermarkets are experts at presenting perfect fruit for sale that has neither flavor nor juice, which is essentially inedible. So they have perfected the sale of the perfect peach or pear, but since it was picked green, it has no discernable flavor or character. In other words, the pear, peach, or tomato looks perfectly ripe, has no real flaws or damage, but it also has no flavor, other than a sort of woody fibery sensation you get from chewing this fruit. You should spit it out, but you are torn because you did waste your hard-earned money buying it. I mean, who wouldn’t buy a perfect peach? Thing is, however, that because the modern road from orchard to market is so hazardous, the producers pick the fruit green, let it mature in route, and then sell their perfect creations at a nice high price. The consumer gets the short end of the stick because they don’t sample the pretty fruit before they buy it–I mean, who cuts into a peach in the middle of the produce section? I have bought an entire box of strawberries that not only don’t taste like strawberries, they have no discernable taste at all. The peaches are the worst because they look awesome, but they taste like oak. I just ate a pear that was really only the ghost of a pear. I know as a kid we used to buy entire crates of peaches and pears in the summer, and they were juicy and wonderful. You would think that with modern technology, great refrigeration, and fast trucks that this would be possible. At least, you might think that. Nostalgia is a terrible thing. And so is bad fruit.

On supermarket peaches

Posted on by

I don’t mean to be snarky about this, but supermarkets are experts at presenting perfect fruit for sale that has neither flavor nor juice, which is essentially inedible. So they have perfected the sale of the perfect peach or pear, but since it was picked green, it has no discernable flavor or character. In other words, the pear, peach, or tomato looks perfectly ripe, has no real flaws or damage, but it also has no flavor, other than a sort of woody fibery sensation you get from chewing this fruit. You should spit it out, but you are torn because you did waste your hard-earned money buying it. I mean, who wouldn’t buy a perfect peach? Thing is, however, that because the modern road from orchard to market is so hazardous, the producers pick the fruit green, let it mature in route, and then sell their perfect creations at a nice high price. The consumer gets the short end of the stick because they don’t sample the pretty fruit before they buy it–I mean, who cuts into a peach in the middle of the produce section? I have bought an entire box of strawberries that not only don’t taste like strawberries, they have no discernable taste at all. The peaches are the worst because they look awesome, but they taste like oak. I just ate a pear that was really only the ghost of a pear. I know as a kid we used to buy entire crates of peaches and pears in the summer, and they were juicy and wonderful. You would think that with modern technology, great refrigeration, and fast trucks that this would be possible. At least, you might think that. Nostalgia is a terrible thing. And so is bad fruit.

On ice cream

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Speaking of foods that no one needs, this must be the most delicious example of one. Creamy, sweet, cold, ice cream is pretty much universally liked by everyone who has ever eaten any. Even bad ice cream is still pretty good. I suppose fish-flavored ice cream might be a little creepy and weird, but I’ll bet it’s been tried–anchovy, anyone? My personal favorite, besides chocolate, is anything with lots of butter and pecans in it. Most people, especially when they need to punish themselves, can eat an entire vat of ice cream, regardless of what the consequences might be–obesity, diabetes, heart disease, lactose intolerance, and death, of course. Common sense just seems to go straight out the window when ice cream comes into picture, including metaphors that make sense. Ice cream is food exaggeration taken to the nth degree. Filled with copious amounts of pure animal fat and dangerous amounts of sugar, this frozen concoction is a slippery slope toward decadence and corruption. Only Dorian Gray could ever eat all the ice cream he ever wanted and, at the same time, ignore the consequences. We kid ourselves and lie to ourselves, willing to justify more ice cream with any excuse no matter how lame and stupid our reasons might be. You know, you think it’s worth it, those few minutes of pleasure while you eat that huge cone of yoghurt and lemon ice cream, but later you feel guilty and hateful because you know you did a bad thing to your body. This is, of course, the great paradox of eating ice cream, that you love the ephemeral moment as the ice cream passes over your tongue, but you despise yourself for ingesting another 800 calories that you never needed in the first place.

On ice cream

Posted on by

Speaking of foods that no one needs, this must be the most delicious example of one. Creamy, sweet, cold, ice cream is pretty much universally liked by everyone who has ever eaten any. Even bad ice cream is still pretty good. I suppose fish-flavored ice cream might be a little creepy and weird, but I’ll bet it’s been tried–anchovy, anyone? My personal favorite, besides chocolate, is anything with lots of butter and pecans in it. Most people, especially when they need to punish themselves, can eat an entire vat of ice cream, regardless of what the consequences might be–obesity, diabetes, heart disease, lactose intolerance, and death, of course. Common sense just seems to go straight out the window when ice cream comes into picture, including metaphors that make sense. Ice cream is food exaggeration taken to the nth degree. Filled with copious amounts of pure animal fat and dangerous amounts of sugar, this frozen concoction is a slippery slope toward decadence and corruption. Only Dorian Gray could ever eat all the ice cream he ever wanted and, at the same time, ignore the consequences. We kid ourselves and lie to ourselves, willing to justify more ice cream with any excuse no matter how lame and stupid our reasons might be. You know, you think it’s worth it, those few minutes of pleasure while you eat that huge cone of yoghurt and lemon ice cream, but later you feel guilty and hateful because you know you did a bad thing to your body. This is, of course, the great paradox of eating ice cream, that you love the ephemeral moment as the ice cream passes over your tongue, but you despise yourself for ingesting another 800 calories that you never needed in the first place.

On watermelon seeds

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I know why the seeds are there–so we have more watermelon next summer. What is not entirely either clear or purposeful is why genetic biologists want to create a watermelon with seeds that are not seeds. Certainly, seeds make the watermelon more difficult to eat, but they also make the watermelon more interesting to eat because they are the legal thing that one might spit with impunity and not get yelled at by anyone, especially your mom. I find those black tear-drop shaped seeds to be aesthetically pleasing as they dot the ruby-red flesh of a summer watermelon. Watermelon is a metaphor for summer–sweet, juicy, the perfect desert to accompany the sunny heat of August. As a child, I remember eating watermelon in the park with all my fellow summer recreation dropouts and spitting the seeds everywhere. To deprive twelve-year-olds of the pleasure of spitting by inventing a watermelon without seeds is diabolic and heartbreaking, depressing one might say. I mean, creating a genetically useless fruit is the ultimate insult because it eliminates part of the pleasure of eating watermelon. Why is progress measured simply by making things easier when this does not necessarily mean better?

On watermelon seeds

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I know why the seeds are there–so we have more watermelon next summer. What is not entirely either clear or purposeful is why genetic biologists want to create a watermelon with seeds that are not seeds. Certainly, seeds make the watermelon more difficult to eat, but they also make the watermelon more interesting to eat because they are the legal thing that one might spit with impunity and not get yelled at by anyone, especially your mom. I find those black tear-drop shaped seeds to be aesthetically pleasing as they dot the ruby-red flesh of a summer watermelon. Watermelon is a metaphor for summer–sweet, juicy, the perfect desert to accompany the sunny heat of August. As a child, I remember eating watermelon in the park with all my fellow summer recreation dropouts and spitting the seeds everywhere. To deprive twelve-year-olds of the pleasure of spitting by inventing a watermelon without seeds is diabolic and heartbreaking, depressing one might say. I mean, creating a genetically useless fruit is the ultimate insult because it eliminates part of the pleasure of eating watermelon. Why is progress measured simply by making things easier when this does not necessarily mean better?

On soda pop

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I used to drink soda or pop when I was a kid. You know, sugary water with lots of bubbles and some sort of flavor profile–sweet, very sweet. Then my teeth started to get lots of cavities and I gave it up. Even when I got to college, I would limit my intake of sodas to one a month. I lost my taste for lots of sugar and caffeine, and I never went back. I know why people drink soda–sugar and caffeine–but what happens if nobody needs either of those things? Sure, people drink soda as a refreshing experience that slakes their thirst and cools their brow, but water does the same thing. Not that it worries me that people drink soda, but it does seem super unhealthy to drink gallons and gallons of the stuff. Some people will drink a cola or two to start the day, others will have one at lunch or on break, still others will drink a giant litre or two with a couple of burgers and a bunch of fries–tons of carbohydrates, more sugar than a body really needs, and more caffeine than anyone needs. If you look at the actual food value of soda, it’s almost non-existent except for the sugar, and we all get too much of that anyway. Soda is really just a question of good marketing of a sugary food product. Perhaps a splash of cola once in awhile with a bunch of ice and other things to modify the flavor (lemon?) isn’t so bad, but living off of the stuff on a daily basis has got to be bad for a person. Nevertheless, far be it from me to tell anyone else how to live their life.

On soda pop

Posted on by

I used to drink soda or pop when I was a kid. You know, sugary water with lots of bubbles and some sort of flavor profile–sweet, very sweet. Then my teeth started to get lots of cavities and I gave it up. Even when I got to college, I would limit my intake of sodas to one a month. I lost my taste for lots of sugar and caffeine, and I never went back. I know why people drink soda–sugar and caffeine–but what happens if nobody needs either of those things? Sure, people drink soda as a refreshing experience that slakes their thirst and cools their brow, but water does the same thing. Not that it worries me that people drink soda, but it does seem super unhealthy to drink gallons and gallons of the stuff. Some people will drink a cola or two to start the day, others will have one at lunch or on break, still others will drink a giant litre or two with a couple of burgers and a bunch of fries–tons of carbohydrates, more sugar than a body really needs, and more caffeine than anyone needs. If you look at the actual food value of soda, it’s almost non-existent except for the sugar, and we all get too much of that anyway. Soda is really just a question of good marketing of a sugary food product. Perhaps a splash of cola once in awhile with a bunch of ice and other things to modify the flavor (lemon?) isn’t so bad, but living off of the stuff on a daily basis has got to be bad for a person. Nevertheless, far be it from me to tell anyone else how to live their life.

On steak

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“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.

On steak

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“Are we having steak for dinner tonight?” The answer was “yes.” Sometimes I eat steak with a little salt and pepper, and I’m unapologetic about that–no ketchup though, then I would be apologetic. Sometimes I don’t eat steak, but I do hate tofu and can’t figure why anyone would eat it on purpose. The texture is otherworldly and the taste is disappointing, to say the least–it tastes like something dead. On the other hand, there is something which is creepily primitive,but totally satisfying, about eating the flesh of other animals. I think this may be one of my blind-spots, which is goofy, but I’m not sure. Raw oysters really blow my hair back. I like my steak rare, leaning to very rare, burned on the outside and ruby red on the inside, salty. As an omnivore, I like to eat a little bit of everything, although lately I’m for setting the chickens free since the modern industrial chicken tastes like chemicals and not chicken. I don’t eat chicken. Fish, I love fish–tuna, cod, walleye. I’ll eat the six ounce steak on the menu (or I’ll even cook it myself), but I would turn down almost anything larger than that. Digesting animal flesh is hard work, although the payoff if very high. You don’t want to have steak at every meal–the experience would get old really quickly. I like the cut to be either a T-bone or a ribeye. I like nice marbling and juicy meat. There is nothing like putting a nice big steak on the grill, well-seasoned, and sharing it with the other omnivores. I had a big, leafy, green salad last night, and I still feel a bit hungover from that. Oh, one might be a vegetarian, which is a more ethical position, certainly a more defensible one than killing animals for their meat, but I like to eat a little bit of everything.