and now for something completely different

I'm sure someone will find this controversial, but here goes anyway.

The land hereabouts used to be orchards. While it's pretty much all housing (7,000sf lots typical) now, and absurdly expensive, the land itself is still high-quality. Not as good as where I grew up, maybe, but good.

We haven't planted trees (we've only been in this house for six years), but when we got here, there was one Meyer lemon tree in the back yard--and, across the back fence, an apricot tree with lots of limbs overhanging our yard. We don't use pesticides or much of anything else; we know our neighbors-to-the-back don't either.

For the last couple of years, we've been supplying work with Meyer lemons during prime ripening season--picking, rinsing, and bringing in 50-90 lemons a week for five-eight weeks. (We keep a few for our own use, but neither of us use lemons much.) If you don't know Meyer lemons--well, they're the big, relatively sweet, highly flavorful lemons that make supermarket lemons look and taste like travesties. Unfortunately, they don't ship well, and when you do see them in markets, they're likely to cost $1 each or more. (High-class restaurants love them for desserts, where the pies, tarts, etc. are always identified as Meyer lemon whatever.) In our microclimate, parts of Mountain View and Los Altos, it's notoriously true that one established Meyer lemon tree will produce hundreds, maybe more than a thousand, high-quality lemons.

More directly to the non-point, this year our neighbor's apricot tree was highly productive, and my wife's been picking some of the apricots on our side of the fence (observing that the neighbor just lets them fall). I've been having two with breakfast each morning this week.

Fresh apricots--ripe apricots, off the tree--are one of the greatest fruits around. As far as I know, it's just not possible to buy decent apricots in a store: To ship at all, they have to be picked too green, and never ripen properly. I grew up with fresh apricots (in Modesto, you grow up with fresh everything!), and I'd just given up on eating them... until this week.

Makes it hard to fly to Orlando, missing not only a few days of wonderful apricots but the return of Bing cherries (another guilty pleasure, but one that does ship).


Pleased to make your day. And, looking at that sentence, I'm reminded why I don't have a blog. "Travesties" wasn't what I meant either. Maybe "those plastic lemon-juice containers" would be closer. I don't take the care with journal entries that I would with Cites & Insights, I don't take the care with C&I that I would with paid writing (either at work or for publication)...natural enough, but this journal reveals a distressing level of sloppiness.

Anyway, next time you see a transvestite dressed in all yellow, roughly football-shaped, and about three inches tall, who tastes sour, feel free to make the comparison. And I really don't want to know how you find out that being tastes sour!

I think I'll go lie down. It's going to be a long travel day tomorrow.

I laughed so hard the plumber who is here thought I was having some type of seizure. I read this as:

If you don't know Meyer lemons--well, they're the big, relatively sweet, highly flavorful lemons that make supermarket lemons look and taste like transvestites .

Now that sentence is not particularly funny, but coming from Walt, whom I'm sure would not be so crass to compare anything to a transvestite as I can see he respects the dignity of all persons, it is a scream.

Off to cross my eyes and read the rest of this afternoons LISNews.

Florida has Key limes they use to make Key lime pie, not a big deal if you ask me. The Buffalo wing just turned 40, that my friends is an epicurean delight.

When does your tree stop giving lemons? I'd like to take a few lemons off your hands if you still have some by mid to late August

This season pretty much ended a few weeks ago, I'm sorry to say.

Oh well... thanks for the inspiration.