Jen Clodius

One of the best parts of being back on the west coast is fresh produce. Never mind being three-to-five days fresher when produce doesn’t have to be trucked across the country — although that’s certainly a factor! — it’s the variety of it all.

It was rare that I could find jicama in an east-coast grocery store, and even rarer that the checker knew what it was. Conversations would go like this:

“Is this a turnip?”
“It’s jicama.”
“Never heard of it. What’s it taste like?”
“Kind of like water chestnut. You peel off the skin, then slice or chop it up and eat it raw. It’s great in salads.”
“Interesting — let me find the code…”

Thinking to speed the process (and suspecting what’ll come next), I spell, “J - i - c - ”
“You said ‘HICK-uh-ma’.”
“It’s like the ‘j’ in “Tijuana’. It’s pronounced ‘h’ but spelled ‘jic’.”

Once, the checker couldn’t find the code in her flip chart. She also thought I might be fibbing about the pronunciation (”I’m not saying THAT over the PA!”), so called the produce department for a price.

Moments later, over the PA we hear “The juh-CAM-uh is 99 cents a pound.”
“See?” the checker said. “I was pretty sure you weren’t saying it right.”

It’s nice to be home! (Added bonus: local blueberries are currently two POUNDS for $5!)