I once knew a girl who wouldn't eat apples. She wove her walking around groves and orchards. She didn't even like to look at them. They're all mealy, she said. Or else too cheeky, too bloomed. No, she stated again, in case we had not heard her, our laps brimming with Granny Smiths and Red Deliciouses. With Galas and Spartans and yellow Golden Globes. But we had heard her, from the very first; we just couldn't help offering again. Please, we pleaded, eat. Cracking our bites loudly, exposing the dripping wet white inside.
It's unsettling to meet people who don't eat apples.
Martha O'Connor has a great post about food today, too (and she mentions yours truly!) Get ready for a visit from Martha next week (and get ready to have your socks knocked off by her incredible novel, The Bitch Posse!)