CITY FOOD/COUNTRY FOOD

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I laughed. "Well, all I can say is, it's not that complicated for farmers. See, if a farmer saw a worm hole in an apple, he would cut around it or make cider with it. Farmers aren't starstruck by fruit-waxing and stacking them in pyramids-unless they want to sell them to city folk."

Anthony cut a glance at me and shook his head. I wanted him to understand. So I told him this story.

"It seems there was a reporter for the National Inquirer cruising the country roads in pursuit of a story when he spotted a pig with a wooden leg in a farmyard. Now there's got to be a good story behind that pig's leg, the reporter thought to himself.

`So, tell me about this porker; he asked the farmer's wife. `Oh, that pig is a real hero in these part. Last winter, when we had a fire in the house, the pig woke us all up. When we got outside and realized that grandma was still inside, the pig ran into house and got her. Dragged her out by the nightshirt. Yessir, saved all our lives that pig did:

`Yeah, but why does it have a wooden leg?' the reporter asked. `Tell him about this spring, honey,' the wife said.

`This spring I was plowing the east 40,' the farmer explained, `and my tractor tipped and pinned me in a drainage ditch. My face was under water. That pig stuck his snout under my chin and kept me from drowning. Saved my life, he did:

`Yeah, but why does it have a wooden leg?' the reporter insisted.

`Why, son; the wife explained in a matter of fact tone, `a pig like that, you don't want to eat all at once: I checked Anthony for his reaction. "Oh, that's cold, man," he replied.

When we stopped for gas and Anthony went inside to buy gum, I poured the cherries from the paper `farmer' bag into a plastic `grocery produce' bag left over from luncheon pears. On the way home, I offered Anthony some cherries. This time he accepted without question, munching and spitting pits out the window while we talked over plans for next week's outing.

I guess we all have our preconceptions about food and how it should be wrapped or unwrapped. As for me, I still enjoy a ride in the country on a Sunday afternoon. And I like to see food with blemishes as a reminder of the soil it came from, to be trusted to pay for what I take, to be given credit for knowing how to split a watermelon. And I like to remind myself what fruit and vegetables look like without labels, tattoos and plastic wrap.

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