By Yenna Buchay
In August and September, our church sets out a table near the front door. Gardeners leave extra produce and anyone can take items. I enjoy this lovely way to share and always check what’s available.
Last Sunday, I picked up half a dozen yellow fruit that looked like small apples, a bit larger than golf balls. Small green polka-dot spots covered the skin. Maybe an apple variety I’d never seen?
Some of the fruits had round, brown holes, about the size of pencil erasers. I didn’t mind. I’d cut out bad parts and cook applesauce.
For lunch the next day, I bit into a piece with no obvious defects. It tasted like a pear with a slight apple flavor, quite delicious—until my tongue landed on— a worm.
I guarantee you—worms are not tasty—especially raw. Some cultures appreciate them as a high protein meal. Not me.
Maybe worm-eating folks cook their critters first. Fortunately, this worm was too small for a baked item.
I dug the remainder of the long, narrow body out of the fruit’s core and gave him a one-way trip down the disposal. Being only half present, he failed to object. A wise choice, for both the worm and I.
Besides this wiggly thing, I do wonder what I ate. Probably not an apple.
(My friend, Denise, whose husband owns a nursery, suggested the fruit is an Asian Pear.)