Fruit for the Fruits (get it? ‘cuz almost everyone in my office is gay…)
Monday, July 2nd, 2007One of the nicer perks of our office is that we get weekly deliveries of fresh fruit. Today, in addition to the more usual assortment, we also got a small selection of Angelcot. What’s an Angelcot, you ask? Here’s a description passed along from one of my coworkers:
You may have heard of the Angelcot in last year’s The New Yorker article that featured a fruit-detective who was always on the look out for unique fruits. He mentioned an elusive white apricot grown in California. Well, we have found it. A family farm in Brentwood has hybridized a Moroccan and Iranian apricot that they call the Angelcot. There are only two acres of this special fruit in the world. It has a very pale yellow skin color with a slightly speckled and nearly peach like blush at the top. The Fruit inside is so juicy and refreshing that I can not tell if I am eating fruit or some impossible combination of warm-apricot-sorbet. It has the juiciness and smooth texture of a perfectly ripened peach with an indelible lightness that forces your tongue to question if taste buds are real or just part of the Matrix. Enjoy this rare delicacy. It will only last one week.
After getting such a description, I was forced to speak loudly of the fruit, in deific declamations, as I questioned whether the very gods themselves have allowed the ambrosia of Olympus to fall into mortal hands for this single week! Can it be that some Prometheus, no longer content to steal the secret knowledge of the immortals, has stolen away the greatest of pleasures and sustenance? Is this rare delicacy (available for only a week, farmed in a small family estate) the downfall of mankind? Can the gods allow humanity to sup of this fruit without punishment?
After making such declaration, I was rather obligated to partake of this ambrosial delight. I feel as though such a rare opportunity to dine on the rarest nectar of the gods could not pass by. The Angelcot lived up to it's hype, and the description of “warm-apricot-sorbet” was perfect, the texture was unique, and I might describe it as everything you know about an apricot–only more delicate. Although, in reflection, I’m not so sure that the delicacy isn’t enhanced by its own rarity. Surely, if I were have and Angelcot a day, I may or may not keep the doctors away, but I would grow to find it’s taste too subtle… one might even call it watery or bland. And thus we are left with a metaphoric puzzle, are joyous occasions all the more meaningful when they are, like the Angelcot, rare? Would even the most special and desirable occasions become bland and tasteless if they were all that life had to offer?
Hmm, unoriginal and not-so-deep thoughts to ponder.
That was the highlight of an otherwise busy and fast-paced day catching up with a week’s backlog of email and messages.
