I don’t remember what she looked like, nor do I remember where I met her or under what circumstances this exchange took place, but I’ve been jealous of this woman for over 35 years. We were probably talking about food, a conversation I have had with everyone I’ve ever met eventually, and she grinned as she said, “I need to eat a candy bar after I eat lunch, so I do.”
Her wry deliverance—“I need”-- and her quick grin have stayed with me powerfully through the years, and when I hear the echo of her voice, I always wish I were That Girl, whoever she was. Of course, I was an adult when I heard her say that, and even all those years ago, I’m sure her definition of “need” was much different than the one ringing in my head all the time, but that makes little difference to my feeling that I have to justify myself every time I’d like to have a candy bar. However, that little mind game is a story for next time.
This time, I’m talking about fruit, whole pieces of fruit served without any preparation or adulteration, and I do indeed think of fruit as something I “need” to eat, whether I want to or not. Back the 30 years ago before my daughter was born when I was teaching myself to eat healthy (See #7 – A Second Vegetable), I decided that I would eat fruit only if I took the time to do so, and that’s when I devised another of my Supper rules: Fruit is to be served as a separate course, and it must be eaten every Supper time.
I suspect I was influenced by the obviously romantic descriptions read or seen in movies of long European meals eaten in summery orchards or vineyards. After all, it’s easy to imagine yourself eating fruit when it’s juicily ripe and doesn’t need anything but a light wash to make it appetizing. And you’re already sitting down! How hard can that be, to cut up a peach and share the slices around the table?? We’ve all raised our children to enjoy pieces of banana, just the way my niece was a blueberry eater, and I can still see her bald little head and tiny index finger chasing frozen blueberries around on her highchair tray. Once they were in her hand, they were smooshy enough to spread all over her face so that she was blue from her nose to her chin, very happily so. That was too messy for me, so my own daughter never got to enjoy a baby blueberry course.
She did, however, carry the “fruit as separate course” rule with her into college. In their first apartment together during their sophomore years, one evening after she and her college roommate had finished their evening meal and cleaned up, my daughter was standing in the doorway of the kitchen eating a banana. Her roommate asked, “How can you EAT that?” My daughter replied, “I need to.”
Adult fruit servings, particularly in the winter, as we are now, are harder to plan and eat, however. There’s the apple, nut, cheese thing, matching very nicely with red wine, making everyone linger at the table. . . nice thought, but I really don’t like apples, so it’s not my ideal. I have trouble taking bananas seriously enough to eat them at Supper; they’re sort of a breakfast food in my book. And this isn’t the season for lush tree fruits or berries.
I will, however, cut up an orange or wait for a pear to ripen on the counter and cut it at the table at the appropriate time; pineapples from Costa Rica have just come to my grocery market, and I will sharpen my big knife and attack a pineapple with abandon, thus having a piece of fruit which lasts several days in the fridge. If I wait a week before I buy another one, I won’t suffer those sore places in my mouth from eating too much citrus!
I will also relax the rule when I can find a way to serve fruit before the meal begins, as a part of an appetizer, for example, so when grapes are in season, they’ll be offered with cheese before Supper. And this winter, I’ve been segmenting grapefruit (Here’s how to segment a citrus fruit: http://cookblast.com/video/how-to-segment-an-orange-awt-on-itv-s-daily-cooks-552540) to layer with avocado, toasted walnuts, and a lemony vinaigrette on a bed of lettuce. The Fruit Course is covered, in both scenarios.
On a bad day, though, when eating fruit is just one more damn thing, and it’s one thing TOO much, there are always those Orange Essence Prunes that Sunsweet packages. Two of them are just perfect when I’m feeling put upon, and then I can still feel good about moving on to dessert!
Next time: Always dessert!
How I cut up an orange without peeling it:
Do the first step of the Segmenting a Citrus Fruit video referenced above, cutting off the ends of the orange. I do this on a plate so all the juice is caught there, therefore, I’m definitely NOT using my big knife! Save those ends; they’re fun to scrape with your top teeth, and the bottom one is the sweetest, so save it for yourself.
Place a flat edge of the orange on the plate, and cut down vertically right through the center of the orange, being sure you cut through that white dot in the center, even if it isn’t in the center of the orange.
Now, leaving the resulting half an orange on the same flat edge, cut down through its center again, again being sure you’re cutting through that white center dot. Do the same with the other half. Now, you have four wedges.
This step is where it really pays to keep your knives sharp! You’re going to cut off the narrowest part of each wedge, keeping each wedge standing vertically. Doing so guarantees that you’ll take all the seeds with you, but it will be messy, so keep up your courage and vow to sharpen your knife before the next time you cut an orange this way.
Now, cut the neatly-clean, de-seeded wedges in half horizontally, and you’ll have little trapezoid shapes of orange that you can stick in your mouth, orange flesh first, just between your front teeth. Grin, so that only the outside of the orange shows. Try it; it looks crazy, and the kids will LOVE it.
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