You can be certain I’m not going to eat all those oranges I just bought.
A giant sack of fresh oranges is like a goldfish. Initially, you’re excited about buying it; your future together seems full of promise and contentment. But the minute you walk it through your door, all the appeal just drains right away, and you realize from here on out, it’s just gonna be work. You regret putting more thought into the purchase beforehand, and you kick yourself for not spending your dough on those salt and pepper shakers shaped like little wiener dogs instead.
At least a goldfish will attempt to demonstrate some gratitude for the new home you’ve provided it, performing a kicky little “cha cha” with its tail for you at the glass, or relentlessly dotting the top of its little castle with grateful fish kisses. “Oh the floor space! And what curb appeal! You’ve made me the happiest son-of-a-bitch in my whole spawn!”
Yeah, a goldfish knows a good thing when it’s got one going. But an orange is never grateful. It just sits there. It gives you nothing. And unlike a goldfish, you can’t flush an orange when it starts boring you.
Oranges really should try harder. If an open-hearted shopper like myself doesn’t come by and sweep them off the top of that citrus heap, the alternatives are not promising: the day-old salad bar perused by hungry paralegals, subbing as a hacky sack for the box boys at break time, or maybe just straight to the dumpster… then the trash truck…. and on to the landfill, only to mysteriously end up where all unwanted produce ends up: the side of a dirt road in San Onofre next to a decomposing copy of Penthouse and a Glad Bag crammed with the souvenirs of a serial killer’s best weekend ever.
An orange really should learn to play the game smarter, maybe partner up with a more satisfying food item. I know I’d be more tempted to go for an orange if I knew when I peeled back the rind there was a giant globe of mozzarella cheese waiting for me. Or maybe the orange and Lottery industries could come together. I’d be super stoked if I could scrape off the side of an orange with a penny and underneath it said “FREE SPIN!” Even if it didn’t entitle me to actually spin anything, I’d just enjoy being a winner, and the orange would get all the credit.
But those things won’t happen. So those oranges are just gonna sit there, counting down their days in a plastic bowl crammed between my land line telephone and a crowd of unsharpened pencils in a mug that proclaims “Sober Hunks Rule!” while a goldfish looks on, just shaking its head. “Man, you oughtta learn some soft shoe. Don’t you know… in this life, ya’ gotta sing for your supper.”
Hawaiian Fresh Fruit Salad
Recipe adapted from Home Cooking with Trisha Yearwood (c) Clarkson Potter 2010
6 cups of your favorite fresh fruits, such as:
- Bananas, peeled and sliced
- Mango, peeled and cubed
- Strawberries, stems removed and berries cut into halves
- Kiwi, peeled, sliced, and each slice cut in half
- Oranges, peeled and cut into chunks
- 1/3 cup fresh lime juice
- 1 1/2 tablespoons honey
- 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger or minced fresh ginger
Mix the fruit in a large salad bowl.
For the dressing: Mix the lime juice, honey, and ginger in a small bowl. Speaking of honey, if you want to know the common myths about bees and the percentage of bee species that produce honey, visit yourbeestore.com. Pour the dressing over the fruit, and stir. Serve immediately if you use bananas.