Is there a greater scam than the ‘ripen at home’ punnets of fruit that the supermarkets flog? Flimsy netted plastic of peaches, plums and apricots promise so much and deliver so little. When ripe, they need nothing doing to them at all; even cutting them with a knife feels like overkill. But, when they don’t, the result is miserable: their wooly flesh clings to the stone for dear life, and to call the flavour lacklustre would be giving it too much credit.

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In theory, these fruits should be a joy: representing the bounty of the season. All they should need is a day or two on the counter before they’re ripe for the taking. Their rock-bottom price compared to the eye-wateringly expensive version further along the shop shelf should be something of a clue that this is rarely the case.

And yet, the optimist in me never gives up. Or rather, it is fooled every time. That’s how I come to find myself the owner of at least one of these punnets of sad golf or cricket balls at least once a week in the summer. 

Usually, these fruits have been picked early, deliberately underripe. This means that during the various stages of processing and handling that it takes to get them from the tree to the (likely international) supermarket shelves, they are less likely to bruise. Here, their hardness is a virtue. The fruit........

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