Jamie Oliver has started a campaign to love ugly fruit and vegetables, as the French have done for ever. Just after my divorce from my favorite former husband, about forty years ago, I flew to France. I was in the dreaded middle seat when a French man sat down next to me. Not a prepossessing French man, just a French man, slim, about 5’8”, with a crooked nose.” Actually, French men have never been my thing. But we struck up a conversation, and he turned out to be a fascinating fellow, whose name was Robert, pronounced RoeBeaaar. He had a keen eye, and pointed out different styles on ladies and the interesting reflections of light in the cabin from a simple clear hard plastic glass that had many angles. And then the food was served, opening up a whole new discussion, about food and Americans. He started by discussing our fruits and vegetables. This was the era of the three pale tomatoes of the same size and shape in a package in the grocery store. That’s all there was, unless one grew them oneself or found a truck farmer selling them on the side of the road. They were horrible mealy things, with no flavor and most likely no nutrients. And then he picked up the apple on his tray. “Someone,” he said, “has ordered perfect fruit to be on our trays.: “So?” I replied, eyeing my perfect apple, which was not particularly enticing to me, expecting a crunch but no flush of flavor. “Ah,” he said, “I would look for the worm hole when I picked apples from a tree. Because, he said, the worm is much closer to the apple than we. He has headed to the sweetest apple on the tree, and taken a nip of it. He is our guide to goodness. The best fruit, like women, doesn’t come in perfect packages. It is their imperfection, the strength of their nose, the space between their front teeth, perhaps, the little mole on their cheek, that makes one desire them.” We had a lovely dinner in Paris and I always look for the wormhole in fruit.
Posted on: Mon, 05 Jan 2015 16:06:03 +0000
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