Melon-choly

I visited the Raleigh Farmer's Market this week. The visit, coupled with the beads of sweat perched on my forehead, reminded me that it's full-on summer. Tomatoes, cantaloupe and watermelon were all abundantly in season. The zucchini, or squash, as it was called, looked invitingly green.

While the cantaloupes and their beckoning free samples were attractive, I asked around to see if anyone had honeydew, my favorite melon. Nope.

But if you're looking for honeydew, one vendor told me, you should try the sprite melon across the way. After being reassured that the soda industry wasn't in cahoots with North Carolina farmers, I examined what looked like a small honeydew.

The grower, a young man, was giving it toothpick tastes. He described it as a cross between a pear and a honeydew. Maybe the worst parts of each. In hindsight, it's not surprising that I didn't enjoy its flavor, since I don't love a pear.

Back at the ranch, I learned a bit more about the sprite melon. While I was under the impression the sprite melon was a result of some cross-breeding, it's actually an Oriental crisp flesh melon, said Nick Augostini, a marketing specialist at the N.C. Dept. of Agriculture's Specialty Crops program.

Around 2000, the N.C. Specialty Crops Program realized there was a market for this melon and that it would thrive in North Carolina's climate. Today, sprite melons are grown here and shipped across the country, sometimes marketed as Paradise Melons (I think).

Anyway, the outing made me realize there's a whole world of melons, waiting to be discovered. And while I'm getting around to that exploration, I'm enjoying a good ol' watermelon from the farmer's market.

Brute Fruit

Occasionally, I work for a catering company. One perk of the job is that you often come home with leftovers. You also get to say, with a straight face, "It's a shooter of cucumber-basil soup with lotus root."

Last night, I returned from work with a giant grapefruit. I'm not sure this is the 'nom de commerce,' as I didn't buy it, but it's huge. These pictures were not doctored in any way--scout's honor.

This fits with today's trend of fruit that *may* be on steroids. Today's bananas are like wiffleball bats and apples are entire meals. On the other hand, this robust produce counters another food fashion--baby produce.

These two trends may end the use of fruit for making size comparisons. If you said you had a grapefruit-sized bunion, I may think your life was in danger. Or that it was pretty manageable.

Anyway, I'm staring at a grapefruit with a 15-inch circumference and I'm not sure whether to eat it or build a solar system model around it.

Cute Fruit

Note: This column appeared in The Chapel Hill News and is reproduced here for blog readers because the newspaper does not maintain its links.

As someone who spends an inordinate amount of time in supermarkets -- I'm the guy squeezing for the softest loaf of bread -- I tend to notice changes in the store. Some are subtle, and others are less so.

Well, folks, today's produce section is all out of whack. It's disorienting. There are watermelon-sized apples and apple-sized watermelons. You've got tomatoes modeled after a plethora of fruits -- cherry, grape and strawberry. And then there are the Lucky Charms-like varieties: purple peppers, yellow kiwifruit and orange cauliflower.

Size wise, bananas seem to be approaching wiffleball bat length, while it's hard to find carrots that haven't been shaved down to an unnatural infancy. Walking through the aisles, I alternate between feeling like the Incredible Shrinking Woman and the Jolly Green Giant.

The latter feeling is more common. Among the packaged greens alone, there's baby spinach, baby arugula and baby lettuce. I'm not sure whether to make a salad or warm up a bottle.

Some of these cute fruits occur naturally, but others, like the aforementioned baby carrots, are created. To help you wade through this new era of produce, I thought I'd try three kinds of mini fruit.

These crops aren't new to the world, just to my world. All the items were purchased at Harris Teeter, but they're not exclusive to that chain. And now, on to the fruit:

Mini Bananas ($1.49 for a 12 oz. bag)

Sold as Chiquita Minis, they're also known as finger or lady finger bananas. They do look kind of finger-like, which, to me, isn't all that appetizing. The fruit companies have only themselves to blame for this marketing mishap, though. Dole's web site writes that baby bananas "resemble the hands of small children -- plump and short." Mmm, who's hungry?

If you can get past the image of eating a finger, these bitsy bananas are great. They're noticeably sweeter than regular ones. For that reason, they play nicely with yogurt or on their own as an after dinner snack. I found mini bananas a bit too sugary for cereal, although that may owe more to my choice of Grape-Nuts. They were a little better with a non-cardboard-based cereal.

Surprisingly, these pony bananas seemed to last longer than regular-sized ones. That bodes well, considering they're sold as large bunches wrapped in a bag. Oddly, they peel from the bottom, which only compounds the strange sight of a banana that fits in your palm. On the plus side, you can get in touch with your gorilla side.

Once you get past the weirdness of four-bite bananas, there are real advantages to their compactness. They're handy when feeding kids. And for bigger kids, it's nice to open a banana without biting off more than you want to chew.

The Verdict: Cute Fruit.


Munchkins Grapes ($3.99 for a 1 lb. box)

Officially, this minute fruit goes by either Black Corinth or Zante Currant grapes. In marketing terms, they are Champagne Grapes -- which I think is pushing it -- or Munchkins. As anyone who's ever been to a Dunkin' Donuts can attest, Munchkins are donut holes, not a miniature fruit. And these tiny grapes are no match for those glazed and jelly-filled globes. Then again, what is?

These mini grapes look like rounder, unwrinkled raisins, which, given their relationship, makes sense. Less sensible is just how small they are. At maybe a quarter the size of a regular red grape, they're a bit of a novelty act. Each tiny grape is like a mini M&M -- just small enough that you can't really get the full flavor.

Fortunately, it is a flavor worth finding. Munchkins definitely taste different than red or green table grapes. They're a little sharper, and they're tarter. But, thankfully, they have nothing to do with tartar sauce.

Even cooler, there's a fun way to access that flavor. You can -- brace yourselves -- chomp into a bunch of mini grapes and eat the stems. Now I have been known to enjoy unpeeled kiwis and peanuts in their shell, but this one's legit. The stems are fully edible and barely noticeable, setting up the grape sellers' slogan, "You can eat a whole bunch!"

That said, I don't subscribe to their other motto, "Little grapes...big fun." While they're neat the first time, I can't see buying them again. My life's OK with normal sized grapes.

The Verdict: Too Cute Fruit.


South African Baby Pineapple ($2.99 each)

The cutest of all three cute fruit, these minis are also known as Queen Victoria pineapples. About the size of a baseball, they certainly can't be called Queen Latifah pineapples.

By any name, this fruit's minuteness is an improvement. These more personal pineapples are perfect for one or two people. While it's strange to think of a pineapple as an individual serving, it is unquestionably so. It's as if someone removed the pine and left the apple.

Despite their lunch box size, puny pineapples aren't brown bag friendly because they still have that characteristic tough outer layer. On the plus side, you don't have to core them.

Inside that reptilian skin, these pint-sized pineapples taste about the same as the originals. That's no knock, as I'd place pineapples near the top of the fruit pile. There's a reason they have crowns.

With their indistinguishable taste, the main benefit of these petite pineapples is their puniness. But as I've learned, size is important.

The Verdict: Cute Fruit