I wonder if you still have anyone in charge of quality control for salads, fruits, and vegetables, or if that’s now left up to fate, the stars, or a crystal ball. A while back, I bought some unwashed chicory and sugarcane. When I got home and started cleaning them, after removing the first three leaves, I got a surprise: everything else was black and rotten. Basically, I’d bought a head of lettuce wrapped in a layer of healthy leaves. In the end, there was so little left that I wondered if I’d bought a head of lettuce or a home compost kit.The other day I spoke with a manager in the produce department and asked him why, in the stores, apples, pears, and bananas are placed next to kiwis, avocados, and mangoes, or onions and potatoes next to carrots and lettuce. Even I, who don’t have a degree in horticulture, know that some produce speeds up the ripening of others. Besides, it’s something you explain in your own publications.I then asked him why pre-washed salads almost always contain endive that goes from “freshly picked” to “archaeological artifact” in the time it takes to get home, or why it sometimes seems to go into the package already past its prime.His response was a sight to behold. He opened the refrigerator, took out a package of salad, turned it this way and that, observed it, felt it, and studied it with such concentration that for a moment I thought he was trying to establish some form of communication with it. All that was missing was a magnifying glass and a team of scientists. In the end, though, there was no explanation. I left the store with a rather peculiar conviction: perhaps I know the rules for storing fruits and vegetables better than those who are supposed to handle them on a daily basis. And I have to say, it’s kind of funny… at least until you look at the receipt. 🍎🥬😄
I wonder if there’s still anyone at your store who handles quality control for salads, fruits, and vegetables, or if that’s now left up to fate, the stars, or a crystal ball.
A while back, I bought some chicory and sugarloaf lettuce. When I got home, I started cleaning them, and after the first three leaves, I got a surprise: the rest was all black and rotten. In the end, there was so little left of the chicory that I wondered whether I’d bought a salad or a kit for my compost pile.
Recently, I spoke with a manager in the produce department and asked him why apples, pears, and bananas are placed right next to delicate fruits like kiwis, avocados, and mangoes—or why onions and potatoes are shelved next to carrots and lettuce. Even I, as a customer with no degree in vegetable science, know that certain products accelerate the ripening of others. Funnily enough, this is exactly what’s mentioned in your own publications.
I also asked him why pre-washed salad mixes almost always contain endives, which transform from “fresh and crisp” to “an archaeological find” in no time at all—or sometimes already look, at the time of purchase, as if their best days are long behind them.
His reaction was memorable: He opened the cooler, took out a package of salad, turned it this way and that, examined it from every angle, and scrutinized it with such intense concentration that for a moment I thought he was trying to make contact with an extraterrestrial life form. All that was really missing was a magnifying glass and a team of scientists.
I wonder if you still have anyone in charge of quality control for salads, fruits, and vegetables, or if that’s now left up to fate, the stars, or a crystal ball. A while back, I bought some unwashed chicory and sugarcane. When I got home and started cleaning them, after removing the first three leaves, I got a surprise: everything else was black and rotten. Basically, I’d bought a head of lettuce wrapped in a layer of healthy leaves. In the end, there was so little left that I wondered if I’d bought a head of lettuce or a home compost kit.The other day I spoke with a manager in the produce department and asked him why, in the stores, apples, pears, and bananas are placed next to kiwis, avocados, and mangoes, or onions and potatoes next to carrots and lettuce. Even I, who don’t have a degree in horticulture, know that some produce speeds up the ripening of others. Besides, it’s something you explain in your own publications.I then asked him why pre-washed salads almost always contain endive that goes from “freshly picked” to “archaeological artifact” in the time it takes to get home, or why it sometimes seems to go into the package already past its prime.His response was a sight to behold. He opened the refrigerator, took out a package of salad, turned it this way and that, observed it, felt it, and studied it with such concentration that for a moment I thought he was trying to establish some form of communication with it. All that was missing was a magnifying glass and a team of scientists. In the end, though, there was no explanation. I left the store with a rather peculiar conviction: perhaps I know the rules for storing fruits and vegetables better than those who are supposed to handle them on a daily basis. And I have to say, it’s kind of funny… at least until you look at the receipt. 🍎🥬😄
I wonder if there’s still anyone at your store who handles quality control for salads, fruits, and vegetables, or if that’s now left up to fate, the stars, or a crystal ball.
A while back, I bought some chicory and sugarloaf lettuce. When I got home, I started cleaning them, and after the first three leaves, I got a surprise: the rest was all black and rotten. In the end, there was so little left of the chicory that I wondered whether I’d bought a salad or a kit for my compost pile.
Recently, I spoke with a manager in the produce department and asked him why apples, pears, and bananas are placed right next to delicate fruits like kiwis, avocados, and mangoes—or why onions and potatoes are shelved next to carrots and lettuce. Even I, as a customer with no degree in vegetable science, know that certain products accelerate the ripening of others. Funnily enough, this is exactly what’s mentioned in your own publications.
I also asked him why pre-washed salad mixes almost always contain endives, which transform from “fresh and crisp” to “an archaeological find” in no time at all—or sometimes already look, at the time of purchase, as if their best days are long behind them.
His reaction was memorable: He opened the cooler, took out a package of salad, turned it this way and that, examined it from every angle, and scrutinized it with such intense concentration that for a moment I thought he was trying to make contact with an extraterrestrial life form. All that was really missing was a magnifying glass and a team of scientists.
