Recently, I visited Christie and Bloor (Koreatown) to search for Korean pears (which I now know are formally Nashi pears). Sadly, the Korean grocery store was out. I roamed the streets, chancing upon a small Korean convenience store that had some at the rock bottom price of 3 for $2. I should’ve known better. When I got them home, I discovered the insides were almost as soft as an orange. Blech! Trash bin.
A few days later, I’m wandering by some fruit stores on Yonge street. To my fortune, one of them yields some Nashi pears, albeit sold in pairs at a high price. Addict that I am, I buy some anyway.
That same night, I found myself calling Galleria, the large Korean grocery store near Yonge and Steele, in the hopes that they might have some more. I knew the two I had would barely last me 24 hours. Speaking to a Korean woman at customer service, I managed to communciate that I was looking for the fabled Nashi pear. The key was to say “fruit” first to get the right frame of mind, then “pear”. I’m not sure how she knew what kind of pear; perhaps by demonstrating I was willing to call about it, she knew which one. At any rate, she was elated at successfully responding to a question in a foreign language, and I was equally elated that the answer was, “yes!”.
A short drive later, I was in happy posession of not one, but two boxes of Nashi pears. I couldn’t leave with just one – there’s only nine per box! As I unpacked the boxes into my fridge, however, I realized that by number, volume, weight (any measure really), Nashi pears dominated my refrigerator contents by a handy multiple. With eighteen crispy, juicy Nashi pears safely acquired, I’m forced to ask myself: do I have a problem here?
