Don't Eat All Those Cherries!

Cherry season has begun and I am tickled pink! I love cherries - I can hoards of them. An entire bushel - though I'm sure I'd subsequently die of some cherry-poisoning disease like when George's fiance licked all those envelopes. Anyway, on the way back from Bassano del Grappa, we stopped by the side of the road at a fruit stand selling cherries. They were not "duroni" as the season was a few weeks late (too much cold an drain, apparently), and my father picked up a kilo of them (for a whopping 8 Euros! That is criminal. That's like $5.70/pound, and they weren't even that good. I am currently eating much better cherries for $2/pound.). My grandmother then warned me that cherries make you bloated (never happens to me, by the way, but I didn't argue with her), and then both her and my mother got their mutande (Italian for underwear) in a bunch about how I shouldn't eat them all because what if I then get sick and I can't get on the plane in the morning, blah blah blah. I swear, someone whack me over the head with a kilo of cherries if I ever get to be a worrying nag like the previous two maternal generations in my family. Lord.

And I didn't end up eating all the cherries, not because I was afraid of getting incurable-cherry-bloat-fart disease, but because (1) like I said, they weren't all that good, and (2) I was too full of pizza and tiramisu. But now that I'm back in California and it's cherry season, it is on. At $2/pound, I will be eating a minimum of one kilo a week without fear of the fart.


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