Pineapple

I am making pizza tonight, specifically bacon, red onion, sun-dried tomato and pineapple - except the can of pineapple I bought has disappeared from the shelves of the pantry. As I rummaged through the shelves muttering darkly ingredients that disappear right when you want them, I had a brain wave. Fruit cocktail. Sometime ago I purchase a case of fruit cocktail because it was on sale. We don't actually eat fruit cocktail, The Muralist insists it's not really fruit and her argument is bolstered by the Verbalist's assertions that the grapes are Ogre eyeballs. But barring the desperation can pulled out of the pantry when the Infant puts away 9 square meals a day, it sits dusty and forlorn next to the cans of extra onion chili, cream corn, and Sirloin Burger Soup which constitutes our disaster rations. The single can of Coconut milk (destined for coconut cream pie and Thai Soup which have yet to materialize on my menu plan) seems hardly worth mentioning.

I opened a can, picked through it for pineapple and came up with 9 miserly tidbits. Nine, NINE! What happened the scads of pineapple that inhabited the fruit cocktails if my youth? For that matter what about the Jello salads chock full of pineapple at the church buffets?