Russ has amazing lunches

What better way to return to Nate's Plate than by letting my friend Jordan do my work for me? I cannot escape Jordan. I met her while "interning" at Found Magazine. Then, she got a job across the street from the coffee shop I was known to frequent. Now, she works at the same fancy advertising agency as me. This means she also works with Russ, the man who brought us fried mung beans and sunberries. This makes Russ the most-featured man in Nate's Plate history. Jordan actually sits next to Russ and has noticed something about his lunches: They are amazing.

Dear Nate’s Plate readers,

I would like to tell you about Russ. He sits next to me and his lunches are amazing.

Sometimes I bring a sandwich. I feel rather proud of myself, because I made it. I put the condiment on the bread and it has at least two elements to it (a meat and a cheese). Sometimes, if it’s a ham sandwich, I will mix mayonnaise and Honeycup mustard. Then I feel like I am the greatest.

But this kind of satisfaction would never be enough for Russ, whose lunches come in at least three different containers. I asked him if he ever just eats a sandwich.

“On rare occasion, yeah,” he said. “Not often, though … I’m a huge fan of Zingerman’s sandwiches and that sort of stuff, but it’s hard to recreate that at home.”

Well la dee dah.

He claims that it’s because his dad bought some too-skinny bread when he was a kid and his sandwiches were always falling apart, but I don’t buy it.

I think that he just likes to rub it in my face that he gets to eat lunches like this one:


This lunch consists of homemade latkes, a delicious-looking homemade cookie bar of some sort, and a bean concoction that smells like a warm haven from the doldrums of winter.

This is my lunch:


This lunch consists of Meijer generic goldfish-like crackers, sugar-free hot chocolate, and lip gloss. And that isn’t even the original hot chocolate; I reconstituted the dregs on the bottom by adding more hot water.

Look at him, sitting at his desk by the window, smugly enjoying his satisfying bean concoction (that was quite possibly cooked by his wife, who does yoga but is not a vegetarian (update 06/2010: she IS). GOD, is there anything in Russ’s life that isn’t perfect?):

Sunberries

Sunberries. They look like the kind of berries that you're not sure you can eat until you see a bird eat one first. In other words, they look like poison berries. But they're not -- I made the guy who grew them in his back yard eat one before giving them to me. He didn't die, so it was my turn for some chomping.

Executive summary: Not only are sunberries not deadly, they're not gross.*



What? You want more details than that?

OK.

It's hard to describe sunberries, and I could probably describe them however I want to because I bet you'll never ever have your hands on them in your life. But since I am such an objective blogger, I'll throw you a bone.

Think of a nice sweet grape combined with a tomato without the acid. As they ripen, the tomato taste fades away. That in a nutshell, er grape peel, is the flavor of a sunberry.

They're like strange candy in odor and flavor, and would do well in packaged form if they had a nice waxy consistency like Starbursts.

I think I detected some mealiness, but it's hard to say since sunberries are so tiny. It might just be their tiny seeds that contribute to this mouthfeel.

This tininess also makes each one a little tease.

So, should you eat sunberries? Sure, if you know someone who grows strange things in his yard. If you're a confectioner, I'd recommend harnessing their flavor and using it to make some candy. It would have to be better than violet candy.

Disclaimer:
*I love all fruits and vegetables and eat raw tomatoes for a snack, so maybe I am biased.