If a publicist sends me the world's best pears, does that make this post advertorial?

Today, la.foodblogging has a diatribe against the plague that is often the PR industry. And then I received a box of organic Harry & David Royal Riviera pears, courtesy of their reps at JS2.

It's an interesting representation of why, even when things go right in the journalist-publicist relationship, it's still a ticklish business. 

About these pears: I grew up with them. My parents send out boxes to a long list of friends every year, along with a couple for us. Back when my understanding of fresh fruit was limited to the produce department at Safeway, these pears were the lone illustration of what I considered a nutritionist's myth -- the idea that fruit was sweet as candy, thirst quenching and worth choosing over a package of Zingers.

However, I've since considered the possibility that H&D pears were just more junk food well disguised. These things are huge -- more than 1/2 pound each -- and so beautifully formed that I wondered if they owed their perfection to chemicals, like agricultural Botox.

Coincidentally (and that it was), this box lands on my desk. Now it turns out that H&D has started selling limited quantities of organic pears, with the first shipments going out Oct. 16.

So: Am I a stooge? I've done exactly what the publicist wants. (They're yummy! Organic! Make a great gift!) And yes, having the pears on my desk, proving that they're just like the ones I remember, got me writing a lot more quickly than an email, letter or website. If I'd found them on my own (hey, juicy pears! And no chemicals!), I would have written something... but that's not what happened.

In the meantime: Damn. These are good pears.