genetically modifying plants aside, it is a strange and thrilling thing to eat something whose every facet, character, fault, victory and blemish were decided on, altered, and then presented in all its waxy glory.
groups of people sat with sharp pencils, little lined cards and spitting cups, to bite, chew and discard many apples before the Sweetango. this one, too soft. this? too hard. what about this? too sour, too sweet, too weak, too meek, too showy, not enough confidence, a narcissist, too histrionic, not good looking enough, too fat, too thin, too heavy, too round, foreign, awkward, bitter, a victim. these kinds of things, i'm sure.
and so i took myself into the Regular Old grocery (where, it is true, I am not a frequent shopper,) pleased to find, literally glowing in a halo of halogen and carnuba wax, the Sweetangos.
lordy.
it was the biggest thing i have ever eaten. slightly mealy to the touch. but. in the mouth? as promised, so juicy it wet the chin, and crunch enough to momentarily drown out the radio. as for the taste? i can't say i remember. i was enraptured by the crunch and the juice. apparently the taste wasn't figured into the modifying equation. perhaps they knew we'd be slightly embarassed at first by now knowing how to break the skin. the surface was so wide and taut and curved. and then be so blown over by the feel of the thing we'd forget to taste it. (or perhaps i have so long snubbed conventional and oversized fruit I forget that this is a common problem with mainsteam produce.) either way, the Sweetango. stunning and forgettable and somewhat difficult to wrangle.
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