THE FRUIT STAND

Long Island, Bridgehampton, NY; circa Nov. 2016 

 

The tangerines were rain-soaked yet looking fresh, the money box was gone but the dogs were barking. They recognize me so they stop, and bagging my fruits one or two whimper at the gate. John are you there? Yeah, Gary, hearing him through the screen door; you can leave the cash under the bell. (There was a time he had left a sharpie note right on the skin of a giant green pomelo stating: Reserve, for me, $2). His fruit stand is open all the time; it’s built of a small canopy tent that fits snugly on the house lawn. With emergency blinkers on, I park across the street and check out what’s available. A re-use bag is always ready on the passenger seat. Actually, the fruit stand is located a short walk from my work (a quarter mile, if so), and on lunch breaks I would saunter out of the office with a big farmer’s hat on my head and get some bananas and starfruit at the stand (a must for a co-worker); and there were occasions when John would even give me change.

There’s another fruit stand in Paia just past Mana Foods that I miss going to since moving closer to work (it’s been more than a year). I reliably got papayas there (almost daily), and seasonal vegetables if there were any left (I heard the owner was a cook). Just like the one close to me now, this fruit stand is honor-system, in fact most fruit stands on the island are such, and you can find them pretty much everywhere especially when the neighborhood is naturally abundant. I remember the mango and orchids shack in Ha’iku-Huelo in route to the gorgeous waterfalls just along side the winding road. In upcountry where the clime is cooler, a sign would read: Nectarines for 50 cents. To my surprise, there aren’t at all whole coconuts for sale here, though you would think, as compared to other island countries in the South East where those can be had easily and delivered to you to drink with a straw after the vendor had freshly whacked its top off with a machete.   

Years ago I drove out to the Hamptons alone in late fall. The Long Island highway showcased a kaleidoscopic forest scene. Reaching a vineyard according to my map, turning a bend and following a wooden arrow pointing to the estate, I received a ping on my phone. Carefully holding the screen up it read: don’t forget the fruits on your way home. (That weekend we were hosting a dinner at our loft in Brooklyn with friends over from France, and the most beautiful wine, cheese and fruits were imperative. Outside New York, the Hamptons is the food basket of New England with seasonally-focused growers boasting an agrarian ethos that goes many generations down history.) My blog is about discovery, rediscovery and nostalgia, following the course of my life where poetry, food and love are central. However: "A moment and it is gone. And no longer may we make the necessary arrangements, simple as they are. Our star was brighter perhaps when it had water in it. Now there is no question even of that…"  (John Ashberry, from Soonest Mended).