I really should have talked to that Pineapple Consultant at Cub Foods a couple months ago, because in my kitchen right now (for the first time ever) is a whole pineapple, and I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do with it.
Yes, yes, obviously I realize that a pineapple is an edible fruit and a perfectly fine fruit on its own, and I really ought to get a bit more citrus into my diet anyway before I acquire an anachronistic case of scurvy (just in time for Talk Like a Pirate Day next week). Still, there's no way I'm going to eat an entire pineapple. And I'm apparently the only self-sufficient adult who doesn't own a blender, so pina coladas are out of the question as well. I consulted AllRecipes.com for pineapple recipes, but let's be serious. I can barely imagine me taking the effort involved to cut and slice and de-rind the pineapple; there's just no way at all I'm going to make a Frog Eye Salad or a Pineapple Cheese Casserole or Gingery Fish Kabobs (even if they do have a five-star rating).
So if anyone in the Minneapolis area wants a pineapple, let me know. I could probably hook you up.
The pineapple, incidentally, was a gift from my neighbors, who brought it to my "End of Summer / I'm Finally (Almost) Finished Painting My House" party on Saturday. It was a very sweet and kind gesture meant to allude to the pineapple's history as a symbol of hospitality and welcome. It seems to me that if a pineapple says "Welcome," then it should have been me doling out the fruit (heh; "Dole") to my guests, rather than the other way around, but I suspect it was a two-years-belated housewarming offering, and in that case, I'll appreciate the sentiment. If this was a housewarming, however, someone really should have brought me a blender.