Manzano bananas + Where Am I Eating? (8/9/14)

These are Manzano (apple) bananas.  I found them at a fancy food store I sometimes go for rarer foods I eat.  Normally I'd have walked right by, but I read Where Am I Eating? recently and it had a section where Kelsey hunted down where bananas came from.  One of the really cool things he mentions (seriously, go read this book) is that we eat mostly one kind of banana, called the Cavendish.  Actually, he mentions trying a small banana so sweet, it might be considered candy.  I'm not sure, but that may be the very variety of banana I'm holding now.

These things are tiny.  They're maybe slightly longer than my longest finger. The usual bananas in the store are at least the length of my whole hand (7") at shortest, if not a hand and a half.  They make me smile.  

They also make me wonder about the people who harvested them.  I suppose it's much the same as the Cavendish operation... These were more expensive than the Cavendishes, by about 50 cents a pound.  But still.  I hope those people are okay.  Maybe even happy I'm trying the Manzanos?  I may have had one already.  It was hilarious underripe.  But even startchy, as underripe bananas taste, it still tasted different.  I bet the ripe ones will be completely delicious.  

These new bananas aren't my first new experience for the day, though.  My Saturday morning obligation flopped, so I was able to go and help with a food distribution thing this morning instead.  It was... hectic.  This was a near-record day, with 170ish people coming to get food.  The food was... odd.  You know in food drives, they ask you to give canned things?  None of this was canned.  I guess it was excess from various vendors.  There were pineapples, 2 lb. bags of frozen chopped sauteed onions (yes, that's a thing. No idea why), Pop Tarts, cakes and breads of all kinds, cabbages, bottles of orange knockoff brand pop, roughly a million small cucumbers, and probably a couple other things I forgot.  

The truck was on time, which was nice.  I was the first volunteer there, so that gave me some time to find the organizers and learn a bit.  The operation isn't too complicated.  People arrive long beforehand and sign up to receive numbers, which determine their place in line.  Meanwhile, tables are set up in a large, rough rectangle missing the front side so the truck could get in.  The volunteers arrive before the truck, to be ready.

When the truck arrives, volunteers count what was in there to figure out how much of everything they could give per person.  They also move the tables in towards the truck and get the food laid out.  When everything is ready, they're given stations: hand out this food, or unload this box, or something similar.  When all is ready, a quick prayer is said.  Then the line begins, with one person calling out numbers and getting people in the right order.  Everyone files through slowly, with the volunteers handing out food and ensuring everyone gets the designated amount if they want it.  

This goes on steadily until the line is finished, but an organizer may run around the truck, taking inventory on quantities of food and reassigning how much food can be given to each person, if necessary.  When the whole line is done, a second round of numbers is handed out to anyone who wants a chance at the leftovers.  Ideally there aren't many leftovers, but no count is perfect and not everyone is honest in the line.  Some people will try to get extra by having their kid or friend act like he has a number too.  That's people sometimes...  

In the end, whatever isn't taken by the people in the second round is up for grabs for the volunteers, or it gets thrown away.  The truck drives away, the tables are wiped down and put away, and all the volunteers go home.  

This drive was... a little haphazard.  The truck was on time, and apparently it usually isn't.  So the volunteers weren't there, except for me and the organizers.  The frozen chopped sauteed onions got counted at least four times.  I wished I had a clipboard and a pen... I could have saved time and stress.  I guess it isn't usually this bad.  In any case, I made myself useful and counted things, laid things out, cleaned tables, scurried around after the organizer trying to figure out what I was doing, lifted pallets that were way too heavy for me, trucked many armfuls of bread and sweetbread to tables, and handed out pineapples.  

Trying to smile genuinely at people you don't know is hard.  Especially when some of them are clearly embarrassed to be receiving charity, and some don't care you exist so long as the food gets in their containers, some of them don't speak English, and you don't really know what to say other than "Good morning!" "Hi,"  "(Would you like a) Pineapple?" and respond with "You're welcome."  

After all the hubbub had died down and the last people had filed through, all that was left were bags of frozen chopped sauteed onions.  I snagged two on the enthusiastic urging of the organizers.  I've managed to foist one off on my grandmother, who I saw later today, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do with the other one.  French onion soup?  Foist it onto another friend, maybe?  

I'll probably go back and do the food truck thing again, but not next time.  When next time occurs, I'll be in CT for Chris' older brother's wedding, and I'll be wearing a dress (ugh).  It'll be four weeks before I can try it again.  Maybe the volunteers will be there early and the truck will be on time.  Maybe we won't have a near-record number of people, too.