In praise of fruit

So I went to Harvest yesterday and ended up buying around $100 worth of produce.

I know what seduced me–it was the abundance of summery goodness in the produce section. Which, thank god, is where I left it the last time I was at Harvest, which brings me to my primary complaint about my shopping experience which is WHERE THE FUCK DID EVERYTHING GO? I understand that they remodeled to make more room and that some stuff might move. But did they really need to disembowel the entire store? I mean, seriously. I went into the bulk section for some almonds and ran smack dab into a case of merlot. I went to the cooler where the yoghurt used to be and there was no yoghurt. Is there yoghurt, somewhere, in the new Harvest? Because I could not find any goddamn yoghurt and I was very angry about it. This is almost worse than the old Harvest trick of ordering products that I fall in love with and then never carrying them again. I am not happy about the new direction Harvest is going in, it’s uncomfortably yuppie for me. I do not approve.

I wrote them a detailed complaint and stuck it in the comment box but I don’t respect a response when they have so clearly capitulated to the yuppie foolishness. Pretty soon they’ll be getting rid of all the vaguely white trash foods and replacing them with all organic white truffle oil hand pressed by certified Italian virgins. And by the way, could you please make an effort to carry the non-shitty flavours of Kettle Chips, like Chipotle Chile Barbeque? Because the options you have would make the Baby Jesus Cry. Also please could you start carrying Voyant, because my friend A dragged me all over Fort Bragg looking for it last night? Thank you.

Where is the love, Harvest?

Uhm, anyway, so fruit.

I bought a lot of fruit, and it is very yummy. That’s pretty much all, honestly. I’ve been gorging myself on cherries and apricots and strawberries, melon and bananas. My fridge is packed to the gills–so much, in fact, that every time I open it I have to move fast to catch a honeydew melon that otherwise might escape and run wild through my house. And everyone knows that once a melon escapes, it’s virtually impossible to get back. And then you find it all shriveled up under the couch months later. And you say “ah ha, that’s what that smell was.”

I am digging it. God, I love summer for the richness of fruit that happens, and in the dark of the winter I will think back to these days of lying on the bed, mouth filled with cherries, with deep bitterness. My lips are bright red from all the cherries I’ve eaten. I’m probably going to get a tummy ache.

And you know what? I’m going to love it.

Because I’m like a cow that strays into the orchard and can’t stop myself from eating until I feel physically ill. Fresh produce is the bees knees. Cats pajamas. Anyway.

I’m sure my imminent tummyache from all this produce will make me nice and grumpy so I can write a good political diatribe, but for now you’re going to have to satisfy yourselves with the thought that these cherries, right now, that I am eating, are fucking awesome.