It has been one long, tough winter for the plants on our roof terrace. They had to deal with inept gardeners as The Hubs and I took turns overwatering and underwatering them, they had to survive an onslaught by mealey bugs and white flies (horrid little critters, both of them), and then after they’d survived all that, they were subjected to Poppy’s unusual brand of botanical experiments: namely digging up said plants, and seeing how they fared with their roots in the air and their leaves in the ground (the answer to that one: not well).
The Hubs and I have taken to viewing this as a form of Darwinian selection — only the fittest survived the winter. Well, let me tell you, no plant is as fit or as strong, or as Dawinianly superior as the pineapple plant. Because check it out, we have not just one, but two pineapples growing.
Chuffed doesn’t even begin to cover how pleased I am that we have managed to keep something alive and see it bear fruit. And since these pineapples are so special, I think they deserve more than being eating normally once they’re ripe. I want to do something amazing with them.
Do any of you know of a good pineapple recipe?