I worked 12-hour shifts at the Dole cannery the summer I got out of school. You see a lot of pineapples each night.

There were three lady supervisors in charge of the entire canning floor, and line ladies in charge of each line.

Only a couple times that summer, a 'sweet pine' came down the line. When one was spotted, the table lady immediately called the three supervisors. They got first bite, then the table lady, and then the workers. I didn't really understand the first time - I cut a bite, popped it in my mouth and almost melted. Of course, I immediately went for a second bite and got my knuckles rapped with the table lady's knife.

'Sweet pine' was never a whole pineapple - only part. You learn to recognize it. It is part of the pineapple that has reached absolute perfect peak ripeness and when you see it on the line, it's only been picked less than a day earlier.

It was so rare that there was a strict protocol in the cannery - the three supervisors, all of whom had been working there for many years, still dropped everything for a rare bite of 'sweet pine'.

I will never taste 'sweet pine' again in my lifetime - the odds are simply against. But all these years later, I still remember the taste. Probably the closest I will ever get to tasting ambrosia.