What those numbers on fruit stickers really mean

When it comes to groceries, we usually pay attention to the brand and the expiry date, but when it comes to fruits and vegetables most of us pick the ripe ones that look appealing to the eye. The truth is that fruits and vegetables are also labeled, but not many pay attention to those numbers mostly because they don’t even know what they stand for.

Numbers on fruit stickers like 9

Numbers on fruits serve more than the single purpose of identify how much the item should ring up. In fact, they provide valuable information about the product. If you notice fruit stickers starting with the numbers 9, out of five digits, it indicates that the fruit has been grown organically.

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Number 8

If the five-digit number the fruit is labeled with starts with the number 8, it means the product has been genetically modified. GMO foods are controversial as many believe they cause and trigger allergies. This technology is often used in agriculture to enhance the resistance of crops to pests and diseases, improve tolerance to herbicides, or increase nutritional content.

Currently, researchers still investigate the long-term effects, if any, on humans. Some of the most notable GMO fruits are papayas, apples, plums, strawberries, and grapes, among the rest.

ElasticComputeFarm | Pixabay

4-digit code

A 4-digit code starting with either number 3 or 4 signifies the food isn’t organically grown. Instead, it has likely been “conventionally grown.” The meaning of conventionally grown food refers to the way they are fertilized. While organic produce uses organic matter like compost and is mechanically or biologically treated for weeds, conventional methods use synthetic fertilizers and pesticides.

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The debate about the environmental impacts and possible future health complications involving conventional food-growth methods is ongoing.

Dr. Tamika D. Sims, the senior director of food technology communications in Atlanta Georgia, says both organic and synthetic fertilizers have been “federally regulated.”

According to him, people shouldn’t worry about the numbers on fruits and vegetables they consume but rather focus on reaching a well-balanced diet with a variety of foods needed for good health.

When it comes to picking the right fruits and vegetables, the number of digits also matters. A 4 or 5-digit number indicates where and how the food was grown, in addition to the size and type of food purchased, but when the product is labeled with a sticker consisting of more than five digits, it means it’s not included in the “internationally standardized system.”

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For most, going grocery shopping is a dull task they tend to complete as swiftly as possible.

However, knowing that the food we consume is crucial for our survival and maintaining our health and fitness, we should all pay more attention when choosing the food we purchase. The International Federation for Produce Standards is dedicated to “improving supply chain efficiency” which involves, among other responsibilities, ensuring the provision of high-quality ingredients and “establishing and unifying international standards.”

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This system was first implemented during the 90’s, when stickers on fruits and vegetables were added. Categorizing these items with numerical codes was to guarantee high quality. The IFPS has issued more than 1,400 such codes. However, since the system is optional, not all fruits and vegetables in stores have been inspected or approved by the IFPS or meet global standards.

Those people who care of the choice of food they consume can find the knowledge behind the meaning of numbers on fruits and vegetables useful. This knowledge can also expedite the self-checkout process by simply entering the PLU code instead of searching for the item by name. The PLU code system is an excellent method to track the delicious and nutritious foods that travel worldwide.

I RETURNED HOME TO FIND A BIG YELLOW SUITCASE ON MY DOORSTEP WITH A NOTE — WHEN I OPENED IT, I WENT PALE.

The weight of the shopping bags dug into my shoulders as I navigated the familiar curve of the driveway. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn of what was now our house – mine and Liam’s. A thrill, still fresh despite weeks of living here, fluttered in my chest. This wasn’t just another rented apartment; this was the place where we would build our future.

Liam was away in Singapore for a conference, a necessary evil that felt like an eternity despite only being three days. I missed his easy laughter, the way his hand instinctively found mine, even the clutter of his work papers on the kitchen counter. The house felt strangely silent without him, a beautiful but empty shell.

As I rounded the last bend, my breath hitched. Plunked squarely on the doorstep, a beacon of jarring color against the muted tones of the brick, sat a suitcase. Not just any suitcase, but a behemoth of sunshine yellow, the kind you’d expect a flamboyant tourist to wheel through an airport. It looked utterly out of place, abandoned and somehow menacing.

My brow furrowed. We weren’t expecting any deliveries, and Liam certainly wouldn’t own something so…loud. As I drew closer, I noticed a piece of folded paper taped to the handle. My name, “Eleanor,” was scrawled across it in handwriting I didn’t recognize. Below it, two words that sent a shiver down my spine: “Open and run.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. My first thought, sharp and cold, was danger. Had someone followed me home? Was this some kind of twisted prank? My fingers tightened around the shopping bags, the flimsy paper handles suddenly feeling inadequate as a weapon.

My rational mind screamed for me to call the police. To back away slowly and dial emergency services. But another, more insidious voice whispered in my ear – the voice of curiosity, the one that always got me into trouble. What if it was a mistake? What if it was something…else?

Taking a shaky breath, I dropped the shopping bags with a soft thud on the porch. My gaze darted around the quiet street, searching for any sign of movement, any lurking figure. Nothing. Just the gentle rustling of leaves in the afternoon breeze.

With a hesitant step, I approached the suitcase. The yellow plastic felt strangely smooth under my trembling fingers. I peeled off the note, the hurried, uneven letters amplifying the sense of urgency and dread. “Open and run.” The words echoed in my mind, a chilling command.

My hands shook as I fumbled with the latches. They sprung open with a soft click, and the heavy lid creaked upwards. I braced myself, my eyes squeezed shut for a fleeting moment, expecting…what? A bomb? Something gruesome?

Slowly, cautiously, I opened my eyes.

The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming scent of lavender and something else…something sweet and vaguely familiar. The interior of the suitcase was lined with a soft, floral fabric. And nestled within, carefully arranged, were dozens of baby clothes.

Tiny, exquisitely crafted outfits in pastel shades – soft blue rompers, delicate pink dresses, miniature knitted sweaters. There were tiny socks, smaller than my thumb, and even a pair of impossibly small booties. My breath caught in my throat.

Beneath the clothes, I saw neatly folded receiving blankets, their edges embroidered with delicate flowers. A small, plush teddy bear with one button eye missing lay nestled amongst them. And then, my gaze fell upon a small, sealed envelope tucked into a side pocket.

My hands trembled as I picked it up. My name was written on it again, this time in a neat, familiar script. Liam’s script.

Tearing it open, I unfolded the single sheet of paper. The words swam before my eyes as tears welled up.

My Dearest Eleanor,

If you’re reading this, you’ve found the big yellow surprise. I know the note might have scared you – it was a silly inside joke with my sister, who helped me with this. Please forgive the dramatic delivery!

I couldn’t wait until I got back to tell you. Eleanor, my love, we’re going to be parents.

These are just a few of the things I’ve been picking up, imagining our little one wrapped in them. I know it’s early, and there’s so much to figure out, but seeing them, holding them, made it all so real. I wanted you to have this little glimpse of our future while I’m away.

The lavender scent is from the little sachets my mum used to put in our baby clothes. I thought it would be a comforting touch.

I love you more than words can say, my Eleanor. I can’t wait to come home and celebrate this incredible news with you.

All my love,

Liam.

The letter fluttered from my numb fingers and landed softly on the pile of baby clothes. The world seemed to tilt, the late afternoon sun suddenly blindingly bright. My knees felt weak, and I sank onto the porch steps, the rough brick cool against my skin.

A wave of emotions washed over me – disbelief, shock, and then, an overwhelming surge of joy that brought tears streaming down my face. A baby. Our baby.

The bizarre yellow suitcase, the cryptic note – it all suddenly made a strange, heart-stopping kind of sense. Liam, in his excitement and perhaps a touch of his sister’s theatrical flair, had orchestrated this unexpected announcement.

The initial fear evaporated, replaced by a warmth that spread through me, chasing away the chill of the empty house. I reached into the suitcase, my fingers brushing against the soft fabric of a tiny blue onesie. A sob escaped my lips, a mixture of relief and pure, unadulterated happiness.

I picked up the little teddy bear, its missing button eye somehow endearing. Our baby. The thought echoed in my mind, a precious, unbelievable reality.

The silence of the house no longer felt empty. It felt full of possibility, of a future I hadn’t even dared to fully imagine until now. A future with Liam, and with the tiny life that was growing inside me.

I clutched the teddy bear to my chest, a silly grin spreading across my face. “Open and run,” the note had said. And in a way, it was right. I had opened the suitcase, and now, I wanted to run – straight into Liam’s arms, to share this incredible secret, to begin this new, extraordinary chapter of our lives. The big yellow suitcase, once a source of fear, now felt like a treasure chest, holding the most precious gift of all.

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