A peach pit

I think I'll be pleased one day to look back and know that much of this began with a peach. That day should come a week from Tuesday, I'd say. By then I'll be moping about and sneezing through the dust bunnies left behind on book shelves, having sold off my novels and miscellaneous collection of how-to books to pay the water bill. (When did I think I would teach myself Korean? Please.) I will wallow in my emptiness and curl up in the floor in defeat, all because of that damned peach.

Ah, but I can't help myself. When did this juicy vixen become the crack cocaine of the fruit world? I'll tell you when. When grocers in Tokyo – from the haute to the humble – starting stacking rows of the little biddies on nearly every sidewalk. A stroll through the city's steamy, summer air makes a perfect incubator for peach perfume. While others dab their brows with handkerchiefs and sip from iced lattes, I bore ahead on a honey-scented path, sweat beading on my lip, to the nearest food store to get my fix. In Tokyo, fruit is caressed and cuddled like a newborn baby. Grapes, cherries, oranges, apples, even bananas come specially swaddled in plastic wrap or Styrofoam booties, and sometimes both. Peaches are given this royal treatment and look like Christmas tree ornaments in need of hanging. I snatch up a package of two and feverishly make my way to the checkout line.

That'll be 950 yen, please. My Japanese isn't that good, but I'm fairly sure that's what the check-out person is telling me. Honestly, I'd rather be ignorant and lay down the money without thinking. Just $7.75 for two pieces of fruit. Isn't that peachy?

Well, it is. These things are gems, I tell you, uncanny containers of rosy syrup and flesh that make the whole kitchen smell like summer. I love the colors of peach, which aren't peach at all if you consult Crayola, but draw from a whole chunk of the food color wheel – wine, violet, saffron, marmalade, corn, cherry. And that's just the skin, a light sandy fuzz that contrasts sublimely with the heavy pulp inside. It's a fruit that requires simultaneous biting and slurping and like most things worth their while is best when eaten right over the kitchen sink. A peach is like holding a sunset in your hands, and much sexier, besides.

Still, more than $3 a piece, and the first one was NOT free. But what can you do? Tie the napkin 'round your neck, that's what. I've been eating one a day for the past few weeks, cut sloppily over toast or yogurt, and I don't plan on retiring from this strenuous schedule anytime soon. Rationalization is one of my favorite hobbies, so here's the skinny on the peach – I feel I'm owed. After buying buckets of picture-perfect, sawdust-filled peaches from grocery stores and farmer's markets in America, I've found that reliability comes at a price. Each of these wonders is wonderful, firm and sweet and delectable, not a mushy mess in sight. I'm never disappointed, and that might just be worth three bucks a day.

p.s. I saw a mango last week selling for 4,000 yen, $33. Good thing I hate them, or I'd have to hock the camera.