Bonnie: Whenever I cut into a fresh pineapple, my mind floods with memories of the college summer my friends and I lived in Waikiki.
I attended the University, while my roomies worked the line in the Dole pineapple cannery just off Nimitz Highway, returning each day reeking of the fruit. While they packed sliced and diced hala kahiki in its juice, I studied ethnobotany and climatology and—to make pocket money—sewed muumuus. While others carried surfboards aboard the plane to Honolulu that summer, I toted my baby blue Singer sewing machine.
Having been to the islands a couple times before, I knew of their fabrics, with vibrant colors you’d never see on the mainland. I also knew how pricey the loose-fitting, sleeveless muumuus were in the shops and, since I could whip one together in less than an hour, I just did that—for me, for all my roomies and for the mom of the Navy guy I was seeing.
My friend took me aboard his ship to see the Apollo 11 capsule right after the Navy had recovered it from the Pacific. It was so much smaller than I imagined. Until then, I had seen it only on a tiny-screened black and white TV in our apartment, where we watched the rescue after the moon landing. Seeing it up close, I couldn’t fathom Neil Armstrong, Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin, and Michael Collins fitting comfortably into it for their descent back to earth. They did fit; I doubt comfortably.
That summer we took road trips, stopping to swim in Hanauma Bay and enjoying other beaches, returning through the Pali Pass. To use my brother-in-law Gerry’s car, I had to drop him at his University office first. I did that often, as he owned an adorable two-seater convertible Triumph TR3 into which one day I squeezed five to drive around the island. Thankfully it wasn’t until we were heading back into town that a cop on a motorcycle saw us and pulled us over. He—sporting a huge grin—had a hard time taking his eyes off the bikini-clad TR3 occupants, but had no trouble ticketing each of us.
Those kaleidoscope-like images flash though my head with each bite of a fresh juicy pineapple. But with my empty nest now, that’s not as often as I’d like it to be. I just can’t finish a whole one, unless I have company. But I can finish one of Frieda’s new South African baby pineapples, including the crunchy core! Frieda’s—the company responsible for the popularity of Kiwis—imports these tiny (5 inches high!) deliciously sweet pineapples all year. When I fell for these 6 years ago, they were only $2 each; now with Frieda’s $4 to $5 price tag I should consider putting these in my Extravagant Extras category!
To use, cut in half, top with a chicken mango salad for an entrée, a scoop of sorbet for dessert, or hollow out and use as an attractive serving bowl for fruit salad. They’re perfectly sized for one or two servings.
Bryan: I completely agree! What’s not to love about Frieda’s Pineapple…It’s ripe, delicious and it’s mini! Pineapple to me has always come one of two ways: you buy a can of chunks or you commit to an entire fruit and hope friends help out. Frieda’s is perfect for fresh pineapple without leftovers. Slice it up and add raspberries and blueberries with a splash of OJ (and grenadine if you have)… add a bit of granola and/or yogurt and breakfast is served!
Eric: Pineapple, simply put, is one of the sweetest fruits and is a perfect accompaniment for—or as—dessert. I had always wished it were possible to grow these pineapples from a tree in our backyard, as they are one of the best snacks for a bite in front of the television. Cut off a piece and dip it into chocolate for a delicious piece of sweetness, and to agree with my brother, sliced in a bowl of yogurt and granola is a great way to start the day (especially when the sun is shining).
This sounds great – but I’ve never seen them in my supermarket. Are they hard to find?
I just spoke with Frieda’s… they tell me that the pineapple is available year round in retailers nationwide. If you can’t find it at your local supermarket, speak to your produce manager.
When the produce section is increasingly filled of fresh food wonders like these, why do Americans flock lemming-style to restaurants and heavily processed foods for “convenient” meals? Give me some chicken salad on a mini pineapple any day! Minus the psychedelic flashbacks Bonnie has whenever she cuts into a pineapple.
(Why do I have a feeling she didn’t give us the juiciest details of those days. Bryan and Eric, try making your mom some cocktails made with fresh-pineapple-soaked vodka and start asking some more questions about Waikiki…)