I recently took a quick trip to Boston and New York, and had the fortunate opportunity to try fresh cranberries. I say fortunate, because the experience imparted enough wisdom to never voluntarily subject myself to the same fate ever again.
It's no wonder that the head of Ocean Spray, the executive of a company whose sole raison d'être is to miraculously make the driest, most bitter fruit on earth become palatable, is pushing hard to exempt cranberry juice from potential sugary drinks legislation. Honestly, I don't blame him.
Cranberries are probably the biggest let down in fruit history. These gorgeous bright-colored berries give way to a disappointing trifecta of juiceless, bitter, mealy properties on first bite. Cranberries can often be found hanging out with their friends, the persimmon and the honeydew melon, who only maintain such a friendship to keep some semblance of relative goodwill in the public eye.
So why all the whining? Why just not eat them and be done with it?
Here's the problem. Cranberries are like an abusive relationship. They look so beautiful, that your eyes are addicted to them. So beautiful, in fact, that every time you look at them, their overwhelming seduction practically erases any memory of their previous transgressions.
My relationship with cranberries usually falls into a consistent cycle:
- 12PM Lunch time! Let's open the refrigerator to see what I have.
- 12:01PM Oh wow, look at those cranberries! I forgot I had those. Reaches in to try one...
- 12:02PM Wow... Those are downright abysmal. I should probably make some actual lunch.
- 3PM Wanders into the kitchen for a snack...
- 3:01PM Oh right, these cranberries. I mean, maybe the one I had was just bad? They look so appetizing, they can't all be that terrible, right? Maybe if I just...
- 3:02PM OH THE HUMANITY! WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELF??
Eventually, the cranberries and I saw a counsellor, and went through an amicable divorce. And with many things in life, if I only knew then what I know now:
Cranberries are only good for one thing: photography.
Nice guy though.
The bog where this God-awful fruit is grown. Just in case you were looking for the new location of a Wal-Mart, or something.
Photographs of Not Cranberries
Luckily I was able to spend time doing things other than just sobbing into an eight-pound Ziploc bag of fiery red balls of misery.
Eventually I decided to take a completely different approach to fruit, which ended up far more fortuitous.
My how windows have changed over the years...
No trip to New York is complete without a visit to Mr. DeMarco. Read the full report on Pizzaventures.
And now, your obligatory tarmac photograph.
Join us next time when we discuss which fruit is actually worth eating.