Pineapple in Papiamento is...pineapple

So tonight, I cut up a pineapple.

I know what you're thinking, "wow, she's so much fun." But I worked until 7 p.m., on a scrapbook for work no less (that's why I get paid the big bucks) and then when I came home, I ate dinner, read my book and decided to deal with the mass of fruit on our counter.

Post-vacation, I realized that I can't miss out on all the great fruit we had while we were away. I am catching up on all my summer favorites: plums, peaches, pineapple. The cantaloupes I got leave a little to be desired. Maybe watermelon next time.

Anyway, growing up, me madre always bought the pineapple that comes already cored by a machine of some sort - it's bathing in its own juice in a tall plastic container. The juice always kind of bothered me b/c it ended up making the fruit REALLY sweet, and after a few pieces, I had to cease and desist or my tongue would petrify and become a fossil. I also couldn't help feeling like we were getting ripped off - I mean, how much of the pineapple were we missing here? Obviously the already prepped pineapples are a bit more expensive because they save you time (it's time or money, as the economic man would say).

So it's time to tackle the real thing. I picked up a nice prickly pineapple this week at my local bodega and when I was about to go at it samurai-style, I realized I had no idea how to tackle it. So I hit the Internet. Who knew, but cutting pineapples is similar to skinning cats - it's a hairy mess. Just kidding.

There were a number of different ways, and even a site dedicated to the art, http://www.howtocutapineapple.com/. This was good because it had pictures and I'm tired of reading. There was also About.com's version , which I generally don't file much credence in because it just looks like a bunch of junky ads, and this site that looks like a local professional who knows his stuff. By then, I'd had enough of the Internet and decided to just have a go.

That was when I noticed the tag on my beautiful porcupine pineapple had instructions. It's not called a Del Monte Gold for nothin'. Unforch, it's not online. You'll have to buy your own Gold to see these detailed instructions.

I did a hybrid method of the first Web site and the Del Monte tag, trying to cut the prickly skin as close as possible to maintain as much of the flesh as I could. (I love when food writers use the word "flesh" for the meaty part of anything that's not really meat - it makes it still sounds like such a meal.) In the end, I netted pretty much the same amount that my mom did when she bought the already-ready-already version, but mine was minus the saccharine broth and full of the pride of a job well done. I can't wait to eat some tomorrow.