Strawberry love

strawberry

More food love: I came across this strawberry in my basket the other day. Right after taking the photo I popped the berry in my mouth and savored the love, eyes shut, taste buds tingling.

Inspired by my photo and fresh out of strawberries, I headed out for a nearby¬†auto-cueillette (that’s French for U-Pick) this afternoon. I found several mutant strawberries, but no hearts. One has to take these things when they present themselves, and not ask too many questions.

On another note, in an odd fit of consistency, I followed my own advice today and checked last month’s credit card statement. It appears that someone named Enzo Arnaldo Pittau borrowed my visa card to book himself a Ryanair flight from Milan to Valencia. Enzo, Enzo… nope, I don’t know any Enzos. Whoever he is, I hope he had a good time – I’m pretty confident this one will be on UBS, since I caught it in time. Still, it doesn’t seem to me the brightest thing to pilfer someone’s credit card number and then book a flight in which your name shows up on the statement…

Big news over the weekend: on Thursday, the food pyramid is going to be replaced with a new graphic. That icon of our youth, its solid base of grains and cereals sloping upward to the ideal, itty-bitty jelly bean and olive-oil summit, has seen the back of its last box of froot loops. Obama has prevailed, and the new image will be a plate divided into wedges (say not “pie chart” because “pie” is not nutritionally correct), more than half occupied by fruits and vegetables. One person who has seen it said “it called to mind a painting by the artist Mark Rothko.” I hope that doesn’t lead people to think the guidelines are abstract, too. My plate is currently three-quarters covered with strawberries…