You ever notice restaurant menus? They’re always so… optimistic. ‘Crisp garden greens!’ Are they? Because the last time I saw ‘crisp,’ it was a hundred-dollar bill. My greens usually look like they just lost a fight with a lawnmower. And the descriptions! ‘Hand-picked heritage tomatoes.’ Hand-picked? As opposed to… foot-picked? What’s the alternative? A tomato-picking robot with tiny metal claws? And ‘heritage’! Oh, these tomatoes have a lineage? Are they going to tell me stories about the old country? It’s just a tomato! A perfectly good tomato, mind you, but it’s not a monarch. It’s a fruit!
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