It’s Hot. Eat Some Fruit

No matter what the circumstances, it’s important to maintain a sunny disposition. Even in the middle of another New York City heat wave, I try to remain calm. I’m really not a summery type of person so, yeah, it’s a bit of a struggle. I have an air conditioner inherited from a roommate out of time immemorial – one that’s noisily inadequate, possibly spewing up allergens, definitely harming the ozone layer, but I’m grateful to have the thing wedged into my bedroom window making its rumbling effort. Can’t say I feel any cooling effects, though. But that’s the summer, eh? It’s oppressively hot. But we all have to try and find our own fleeting moment of serenity somehow.

I try to find mine via something nice to eat. It may be emotional eating (does sweaty lethargy count as an emotion?), but whatever works I say. During the heat wave-before-last I got a little burst of sweet summertime cheer from a plateful of strawberries that were dipped in crème fraîche and rolled in brown sugar. The light tang of crème fraîche provided just the right buffer between the caramelly gloss of brown sugar and the juicy smack of berry. A person can consume a lot of berries like that – dip and roll, dip and roll – without too much fuss and without feeling like too much of a glutton. We’re just talking about dolled up fruit, after all – elegant DIY confectionery at it best. And they’re ever so refreshing with a frosted glass of minty ice tea, especially when served directly in front of a moderate- to high-powered rotating fan.

But that was two heat waves ago (about three weeks) and fresh, local strawberries are already out of the markets here. Stupid summer, stupid way-too-fleeting serenity.

In years past I might have just shrugged and thought: this is the Jet Age, if I want strawberries in late July I will just pay extra to get them at the supermarket where they are conveniently flown in from someplace far far away, like the Meekong Delta or Idaho. But lately I’ve been trying to be a more enlightened and ecologically conscious consumer (carbon emitting air conditioner aside) so I got on my bike and pedaled to the farmers’ market instead. I brought a tub of crème fraîche and a teacup full of sugar with me to see if any other kind of fruit tastes good with a serene little dip and roll.

I tried blueberries, which were abundant in the stands and seemed like they would give the same happy anti-oxidant laden kick as a strawberry. It was a sound theory (if I do say so myself) but the thing about the blueberry is its size – too much surface area, not enough fruit and all you end up tasting is the sugar and the crème. Next I tried these golden plums that were so pretty I thought for sure they’d be winners, but no dice. Maybe plums aren’t at they’re peak of flavor yet, right now they just don’t add a thing to the operation – all looks and no character. Finally I tried a slice of peach. It was a little green yet, not quite in prime season, but fragrant and alluring all the same. And the peach, dipped, rolled, and dripping with syrup, was exactly what I was in the mood for. I bought some more and ate them, sunnily, in the shade.

Photo by Ronan Killeen via his computer phone. (Mr. Killeen would like me to note that he is not some punk who doesn’t own proper camera equipment, it’s just that I asked him to take the pic on the spur of the moment.)