2006-08-03 - 10:57 p.m.

One of my pet peeves�is, well, the phrase �pet peeves.� I hate it�but that�s not the point.

Here�s the thing. I throw out at least $20-25 worth of fresh fruit and vegetables each week�because today�s produce is largely inedible. And, mind you, I shop at the Union Square farmer's market as well as high-priced Manhattan greengrocers...and still...no luck. This may not sound like a big deal�but it�s extremely frustrating�in the middle of summer�not to be able to get a goddamn good nectarine. Is that too much to ask?

And, don�t get me started on:

Cantaloupe � either it's totally NOT sweet or it's overly �watery.� What the fuck? Despite sniffing and pressing and poking�you just never know what you�re gonna get when you invest in a cantaloupe. It�s a major fruit gamble.

Apricots � tasteless, dry and �mealy.� I�m always tempted to pull a �Kramer� and return this "sub-par" fruit.

Strawberries � NOT red inside, NOT sweet, and possessing grotesquely-large seeds. I don�t remember strawberries having such large seeds when I was a kid.

Blueberries � dry and pasty and dead�and NOT tasting anything like a blueberry. As a kid, I spent summers in Connecticut�and my grandfather would take me and my sisters blueberry-picking. He fashioned these little tin-can-on-a-string contraptions that we wore around our necks. Then we just picked blueberries to our heart's content�and filled our little tin cans�and came home with blue teeth! The blueberries were scrumptious�and our teeth recovered.

Tomatoes � um, NOT red inside�but actually pinkish-white and pathetic. Even New Jersey tomatoes, which are usually pretty dependable, have lately been a huge disappointment. Again, they are overly gigantic and flavorless. Bad tomatoes??�in August??�that�s fucked up. Again�I remember picking tomatoes in my grandfather�s garden and just biting into them like an apple. They were sweet and juicy and TOMATO-Y�and smelled of EARTH.

�Baby� Arugula � Okay�this mini salad green is a complete freak of nature. First�it doesn�t taste like arugula�and the only reason I keep buying it is because the package is marked �organic� and it�s already pre-washed. I admit it�washing a fresh bunch of grown-up arugula is just too time-consuming�and still you end up with a mouthful of sand.

I don�t know jack about farming, but I DO know that when I was a kid fruits and vegetables were awesome. By now you�re probably thinking�"What kind of a sad little produce-gorging youngster was Linda?" But�can anyone relate to this? I'd love to know that I'm not the only person suffering daily "fruit-rage."

And, while we�re at it�why don�t fresh-cut flowers smell like the flowers they�re supposed to be. I buy huge bunches of roses at Balducci�s and (a) they don�t smell like roses and (b) they never open up and get all shabby chic the way English roses do. No, instead, their half-open heads just flop over after two days�DEAD...without ever blooming. They never get all dizzy and wonderful�petals dropping onto the table. Never happens. Lilies still have a smell�but there�s just no living with lilies. Come on...they�re too instense to deal with. And they always remind me of a former client of mine...interior designer Charlotte Moss. She always had lilies in her office, and, after every meeting, I came out wheezing and with a giant headache.

On another topic�there are now just TOO MANY BRITISH PEOPLE in New York. I�m the first to admit I�m a complete Anglophile. I�m OBSESSED with the royal family, as you know, and London is one of my favorite cities. I�m a big fan of relaxing and gossiping over a lush and complicated English �tea time��all scones and clotted cream and tiny cakes. But, damn�how and why are all these Englishmen here? Where do they work? What do they do? And why do they all live below 14th Street?

Anyway, last week, I was reading the Sunday New York Times in Hudson River Park. Just lolling around on the lush lawn�enjoying the sun...checking out the "Style" section's wedding announcements...when the following exchange completely disturbed my peace.

Picture this�30-something English woman�with hubby and toddler in tow. She had dirty blonde hair (not �dirty blonde� the color�but, like, DIRTY). It was all drawn up in a pony-tail�and she had that totally typical �I don�t give a damn� scruffy-no-makeup-raggedy-nails look that most English girls have. Hubby was exceedingly attractive�but distracted and seemingly bored with the entire afternoon. Did you ever notice how English husbands are usually WAY better-looking than their wives? Take the gorgeous Rufus Albemarle and plain-old Sally! What's up with that?

Anyway..back to my Sunday-in- the-park-with-Brits. The couple's child was sweet and mellow�until his �Mum� started badgering the poor little bugger�

Mumsy:

"Harry (natch)�come let�s get you an ice cream, shall we?"
"NO, Harry�mummy is NOT going to pick it out."
"Darling, no�you must choose for yourself."
"Come on, Harry�you LOVE sweeties�don�t you want a yummy ice cream.?"
"How about a frozen candy bar?"
"A Snickers or something?"
"You LOVE those?"
"Harry�are you LISTENING to mummy?"
"Darling...don�t you want an ice CREAM?" (emphasis on �cream��unlike Americans..who put the emphasis on �ice�)

Harry remained completely disinterested and was literally running around in circles, but Mumsy continued�with the fucking "ice cream inquisition"�till I was ready to (OY)scream. I'm thinking..."Stop pushing the damn sweets, will ya." Would it be too much to ask for one single solitary English child NOT to have rotten teeth by age six?

Okay�enough�I�m starting to annoy even myself�and that�s never a good sign.

Clue me into some of YOUR pet peeves�but please don�t call them, you know, �pp�s.�

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