Our beef today is with strawberries and, specifically, with those distributed by Driscoll’s, formally Driscoll Strawberry Associates, Inc., of Watsonville, CA 95077—just in case you wish to send them a thumbs-down letter yourself. Their slogan is “Follow us to the Farm,” but I fear that if I followed them, I would encounter there some kind of phactory that makes phake strawberries that look great, are supernaturally big, have zero taste if you disregard a kind of sour yuk and potato-like innards, and a tendency rapidly to rot phrom within. Brigitte and I stood above a Discoll’s box of so-called strawberries—this after tasting one or two and cutting up a bunch more—and we put out our arms, balled our fists, and cursed this shoddy product of modern engineering and its phabricator (surely not grower) Driscoll! Enouf already oph this crap you put out, Discoll’s, not least your so-called blueberries, the size of tangerines, with color that doesn’t even turn the tongue blue, and a taste just like so-called strawberries. No more of our dollars will go Driscoll's way iph we can help it!
Sierra Club talk that may be of interest
2 days ago
