Growing my own has spoiled me. I expect all my produce to have that 'just picked' taste - fresh, crisp, with just a hint of the garden dirt I'm too lazy to wash off.
We like blueberries in this house. We time our trips to New Jersey to coincide with blueberry picking season in Hammonton. I understand my husband's craving for that taste of summer, especially as winter's bite lingers even here in sunny Phoenix, but I told him if he wants a taste of Chilean summer, best we travel the 4000 or so miles south. It's cruel to drag Chile's luscious blue globes north to sit in overpriced, and mushy squalor on our grocery store shelves.