Nice fruit cup, right?
Cute presentation, decent mix of varieties, good ripeness and freshness.
So why was it such a dud?
Because I could taste the factory farmed flavors.
A couple of years ago, when I first went to this cute, friendly restaurant, I always ordered the fruit cup and a bowl of oatmeal. Seemed like a healthy choice. The oatmeal was especially delicious (and I could never get the proprietors to tell me what brand they use — clever of them, so that I'd always want to get my oatmeal at their place instead of buying some of my own).
Yesterday I returned after a great, great absence. The oatmeal tasted, meh, fine. Good texture, nothing offensive, but — meh.
The fruit cup was a disaster.
I'll tell you exactly where this story is going: I don't think their ingredients have gone downhill, but they don't taste as good to me anymore.
I haven't eaten at this restaurant since I sent my taste buds to boot camp, back in August of 2005. That was the month of the first Eat Local Challenge, when I learned to do most of my shopping for produce at farmers markets. I ate fresh, I ate well, I ate brilliantly. And my mouth thanked me for it.
Then yesterday: a single bite of the green melon and it tasted like you could ignite the vapors in my mouth when I exhaled.
The restaurant owners mean well, I'm sure, and they do their best with a small place in a pricey county. They probably never intended to serve Jet Fuel Crenshaws, because they don't know they are. They can't taste the inferiority.
I'm not the one to try to persuade them to change their supplier. They probably couldn't afford to.
But it's sad, because I won't be going back.