Juicy Fruit
When buying fruit I usually buy them in groups of three at a time: three apples, three oranges, you get it. Three is a good number when buying produce for one person. I get the fruit that I want, but not so much of it that I have to eat it every day. Three is an easy number to get through before they start to go bad in the glass fruit bowl on the kitchen table.
The last time I was at Stop and Shop it was clear that the change of season was upon us because the peaches and nectarines had taken the place of honor usually held by the apples. They were proudly lined up in one of first fruit displays you see when you enter the produce section.
I love peaches. (And here let me make note of the fact that when I say “peach” or “peaches” I am talking about the FRUIT. Yes, the fruit looks like a butt. However, when I say “eating a peach”, it is not a euphemism. The internet is a disgusting place, and that is all I have to say about that.) Anyway, I love peaches. To me they taste like summer, so I immediately picked up three pieces of fruit and put them in my cart, excited for the first taste of the season.
Some time later I found myself a bit peckish between meals and decided to have a peach. And here I ran into one of the great quandaries of my life: how the hell are you supposed to eat a piece of juicy fruit while remaining a civilized human being? Peaches, pears, plums, nectarines…all of the above and more pose the same problem.
I have no memory of this problem bothering me in childhood. Before the judgement of middle and high school peers made me question everything about myself, I think I just ate the fruit, mess be damned. Nothing about it felt embarrassing or gross, it was just fruit. I only really became self-conscious about eating juicy fruits when I started working retail and had to eat meals in a small, quiet break room.
A lot of people start working at Barnes & Noble because they love books, not realizing that most of the work is really dealing with the public. The books are an accessory. But nonetheless, many of us started working there because of the draw of books and so it follows that many of us spent our break time reading in the break room.
On one occasion I was on my lunch break eating food I had brought from home. I don’t remember the whole meal but I know it concluded with a pear. I love pears, but they can be hit or miss on the juiciness scale. Sometimes they are bursting and you end up a mess, sometimes they are kind of dry and mealy. This one was first kind. From the first bite I knew it was going to be a messy affair to get this pear into my gullet.
Across the table from me was Gerald, one of the assistant store managers, quietly reading his book. He was a nice man, but kind of strait-laced - not a total kill-joy, but probably wouldn’t think it good manners for me to start slurping my food. Hiding behind my own book, I took small, careful bites of this pear, trying to covertly suck all the juice out of the fruit with each bite so that it wouldn’t start running down my hand. I tried my best to avoid it, but there was definitely some slurping. I got a little side-eye from Gerald.
When I was almost down to the core, the top part broke off as sometimes happens with pears and I wound up with a fistful of very drippy pear core. I hurriedly dropped the remnants in the trash can and rushed over to the sink to mop up my hands and face. Returning to the table I tried to casually sit back down only to notice that there were big globs of pear drippings on the table. So over I ran to the sink again to get some paper towels and quickly cleaned up. By the time I sat back down and picked up my book again, Gerald was just looking at me quizzically as if to say, “how hard is it to eat a piece of fruit?” I was quite relieved when my hour was up and I went back to work.
Since this instance of public embarrassment, I have tried to find neater ways to eat these kinds of fruit. The best way is of course to eat them as part of a fruit salad that someone else made. That way there is no need to figure out how to neatly slice or remove the cores of any stone fruit. But alas I live alone and have no personal chef so am left to my own devices with my produce.
I have tried many methods over the years. There is, of course, the just bite into it method. This is fine, but often leads to stringy fruit skin stuck in the teeth and also lots of fruit juice dripping down your chin. That then necessitates a trip to the rest room to do a full mop up which is lots of work for just eating one piece of fruit. Cutting the fruit up also makes a mess requiring lots of clean up. Also, if you’re working with a stone fruit that is particularly attached to its pit you have a hell of a time trying to get the flesh off the pit, often resulting in a bunch of mushed up pieces and a slew of pulpy liquid all over the place. I have even tried slicing small discs of fruit off the sides of the peach and eating them off the knife. This works pretty well, although you have to watch out for rogue drips of juice and it usually ends with you holding a peach pit still surrounded by a dodecahedron of flesh, which is very slippery and likely to fly out of your hand.
This year when met with the first peach of the season I first tried to break it in half. This works sometimes with under ripe peaches, but this one was perfectly ripe so when I dug in my thumbs to split it apart, they smooshed into the fruit in a most unhelpful manner. I then attacked with a knife, figuring I could cut it into slices and remove the pit. Unfortunately this peach was very attached to its core. Even after cutting it into six slices I couldn’t get a single wedge to unclench from the pit. By this time my hands were covered in peach juice and pulp and I just surrendered. Leaning over the sink like a parent who doesn’t want to have to wash one more dish, I just started gnawing off pieces of the peach. At the end of the whole affair I had managed to consume the peach, but my sink, hands, face, and forearms were covered. I was frustrated and thinking to myself, “You’re almost thirty-seven. You should be able to do this by now.”
For all the mess it made, the peach did taste like summer and that did make me happy. Perhaps it is less important to figure out how to eat fruit like a lady. Maybe it is time I reclaim a small piece of the joy and abandon of childhood and just let it be messy.
I’ve never claimed to be fully civilized anyway. You should see me try to eat a salad.
