I’m 51 years old. I was born in the Midwest. I eat pork tenderloin sandwiches like it’s a spiritual experience. I’ve put ranch dressing on things that probably shouldn’t legally be ranch’d. I thought I’d seen it all, tasted it all.
But no.
Because last weekend, I met papaya.
Now, maybe you’ve heard of papaya before. Maybe you’ve seen it lounging around the tropical fruit section at Kroger, looking like a mango that got a gym membership. But me? I’d never crossed paths with the thing until a recent trip to Jungle Jim’s in Cincinnati—a place that’s part grocery store, part amusement park, and part fever dream.
I saw it. I bought it. I sliced it.
AND MY LIFE WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
Y’all. PAPAYA. IS. DELICIOUS.
It’s like cantaloupe and a creamsicle had a baby, and then that baby grew up to be the prom king of Fruitville. It’s soft, a little floral, a little tropical, and somehow exactly what my soul needed. I was eating this thing like I’d just come off a deserted island.
And the whole time I was thinking,
“HOW HAVE I LIVED HALF A CENTURY WITHOUT THIS?”
Now, you might be skeptical. I get it. I’m not usually the kind of guy who gets excited about fruit unless it’s in a cobbler or deep fried at the fair. But papaya has changed me. I’m on a mission now. A mission to spread the good news of papaya to every porch swing, grain elevator, and county road from Brookville to Versailles.
And listen—don’t confuse this with pineapple. I don’t like pineapple. Or coconut. Papaya is in its own category. It’s smooth. It’s mellow. It doesn’t try to jab you in the taste buds like pineapple does. It just… makes you happy. Like a warm hug. Or a nap after Thanksgiving.
So here’s my challenge to my fellow Southeastern Indiana Hoosiers:
Go get yourself a papaya. Seriously. Next time you’re in Cincy, swing by Jungle Jim’s. Or bug your grocery store until they carry it. Peel it. Scoop out the seeds (they look like alien caviar but don’t be scared). Cut it up. Take a bite.
And then call me on the morning show and tell me I was right.
Let’s make Southeastern Indiana the Papaya Capital of the Midwest.
We’ve got pork, corn, and country music covered. It’s time we add tropical fruit enlightenment to our list of accomplishments.
I’m Brent Lee, and I approve this message.
🍈🔥📻