I know you’re supposed to eat fresh fruit. I know fruit cups are supposed to be the stuff of school cafeteria trays, paired with fish sticks that are more breading than fish and mac-and-cheese you can’t be sure contains either.
But I don’t care. I love them anyway.
Yes, the little bits of fruit swim in the sugary syrup in which they’ve been marinating since the time they resembled something found on a tree, but let’s all be honest here. This is the place for honesty.
That’s what makes a fruit cup so yummy.
I don’t delude myself. I don’t count it as an actual serving of fruit, with its low fiber. But at least these days, fruit–not sugar–is the first ingredient.
That has to count for something.