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27 September 2008
Tonight while I was at the gym my mind began wandering as it does when I exercise. I began thinking about canned peaches. First I began to wonder how canned peaches get to be that perfect solid color of yellow-orange (not peach) and are completely smooth and absent of any evidence that there was a giant pi
t in the center, strange and oddly unnatural. I then began to think about how common it was for us to eat canned fruit when I was a child - peaches, pears and fruit cocktail were the most common. How is it that a farmer would allow his family to each such things? One day we would eat fresh fruit straight from the orchard out of a crate that would sit atop our dryer in the laundry room and the next day it was canned peaches. I then remembered a more recent conversation with my Dad where I learned of his love of canned fruit (anything sugary, really) and then remembered seeing him eat peaches right out of the can. How could he like those sickly sweet versions of the real thing? Generation gap. When my dad was growing up his mother preserved jars and jars of fresh fruits so there would be fruit for the winter. It makes sense now, produce wasn't flying in at record speeds from around the globe all year round, so if you wanted peaches in the winter you'd preserve them in the summer. Somehow I feel like Grandma's peaches were probably a lot tastier then the "Del Monte" variety. This got me through about 10 minutes of my work out.
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