The worst, most boring, disappointing-est, and entirely flavor-free strawberries I ever had came from a roadside farm stand in the vicinity of Ontario, Coliforniyah. My then-BF put one in the palm of his hand and couldn’t even come near closing his fingers around it, they were so gigantic. They also looked mouth-wateringly gorgeous, which only exponentially increased our disappointment.
His mom had bought them on her way home from work, and she made appropriate Godzilla jokes about radiation and mutation before we tried them.
(Coliforniyah. Were you channeling SNL’s The Californians?)
