I’m happy to report that you needn’t live on ice cream alone at Disneyland, should you find yourself there in the blistering late summer heat of Southern California. Not that I did, but my wife (a native Californian with both a lifelong affection for Disneyland and a casual attitude toward perfect summer produce, which she’s eaten her entire life, having grown up near an array of farmer’s markets that are among the best in the world ) did just two days ago with our daughter.
I stayed at home with my two year old boy back in L.A., eating cashews, dried cranberries, and cold heirloom tomato pizza out of the refrigerator. Left to our own devices, we guys do tend to devolve to the gathering half of our hunting and gathering instincts when left alone.
And if she hadn’t smuggled in her own provisions in a backpack, she says she would’ve certainly partaken of the fresh fruit at a stand standing out along Main Street, formerly a place of, well, ice cream. If you wanted something with vitamin C in it, you used to have to order the frozen lemonade. But there, this visit, was a stand groaning with watermelon, grapes, bananas, apples, and, for a south of Delancey touch, dill pickles. Walt only knows whether any of it was organic, but it was a welcome sight to my wife. I hear they have a pretty good wine list at that schmancy restaurant there, too.