![]() Pomegranates! I never even saw a pomegranate until I was fifty-something, browsing in an open-air market in Cairo. I picked one up, sniffed, and rolled it between my palms until the shopkeeper, who had no doubt seen this clueless behavior before said, "Can I help you, madam?" "What is this?" I asked. After a few quick squeezes to soften the skin, he pressed his fingers firmly into the leathery fruit and pulled it apart. Red popped out in all directions. Brilliant, shiny red - of poppies and rubies, cardinals and lipstick. "Try," he said. "What? The seeds?" I could tell his patience was wearing thin; so I picked one, one lonely seed from a mound of hundreds. That's all it took. The mostly sweet, slightly sour juice burst into my mouth as I crunched the kernel. I bought that one, three more and came back each week for a fresh supply. So you can imagine my excitement when I arrived in Montenegro to find pomegranate trees in almost every yard, scattered through open fields and along remote hiking trails. A neighbor kindly shared a handful of her tree's abundance, and I've spent the last hour removing seeds. Pomegranates make me work for their goodness.
But the reward is worth the wait . . . that is, if I can successfully wait. The temptation is great to pop a few along the way. Just one seed here, a handful there.
Excuse me – sorry to eat in front of you. Come to Montenegro, and I'll share.
2 Comments
Meditative, not me. Just scoop them out in a bowl and and devour.
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Twylla
11/7/2017 07:55:33 am
I like your method, too, Vanda! That's fascinating about the 613 seeds. Don't think I'll put it to a test, though. 😉
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