I know bananas might be one of the least green things available in our local grocery stores. Nonetheless, there are days I live off the things. Perhaps this is how I deal with my current latitude. I was switched at birth, you know. I was born the crown prince of a wealthy tropical island nation, I'm sure.
So I'm in Food Lion yesterday evening fetching back some produce. Naners from somewhere south of the border, and right there, directly beside the object of my evening's desiring, what do I see?
The label said "Baby Bananas." I have no idea what one is supposed to do with this half-rosette of teeny naners. It'd take most of them to make a decent smoothie. OK, maybe four in a smoothie, more or less, but the point remains. They cost more. They take more work. There will be more peelings to dry and smoke.
This is just too much for me on a Friday afternoon. Even the memory on a Saturday morning leaves me in a weakened state. And yes, like any other old piece of white trash, I returned to that part of the store just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. Twice.