Okay, today I have kind of a pathetic story to tell you.
About a year ago, I brought home a mystery fruit from the farmer's market, as I am wont to do. It was green and about the size of a softball. I recalled it coming from a clearly-labeled box, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was called. It started with a 'C', I remembered that, and it was multi-syllabic. Google suggested cherimoya, but that wasn't it. I just couldn't figure it out. Well, no worries, I thought, I'll just stop back at that same booth next week and ask what it was. And so I chopped the thing up and ate it.
Oh, it tasted real bad. Hard as a rock-- I nearly hacked off a limb just splitting it in half-- and bitter. Made the roof of my mouth feel somehow sticky, and made my gums tingle. I pitched the thing in the trash after a few valiant bites.
Sheesh, what sort of natural pharmaceutical did I just eat?
I rocked up to the next week's market just brimming, and you watch, I'm gonna ask that fruit guy some questions.
But he wasn't there. In fact, he wasn't there again, ever. The mystery deepened. Months passed. Every so often it would bug me-- what WAS that?-- and I'd attempt some Google-fu. No dice.
Last week, though, last week... the fruit guy was back! He had a box of green softball-sized fruit! Labelled CASIMIROA. Finally, I could spit out that thing that had been on the tip of my tongue all this time.
And yep, that's what I ate. By all accounts it's apparently a lovely fruit. My problem was that the one I encountered was just tragically underripe. Yeah, a whole year spent ruminating on that. I know, pathetic, I toldya.
UPDATE 14-May-2011: Got a ripe one! It tastes like a pear. After all this buildup I am underwhelmed.
About a year ago, I brought home a mystery fruit from the farmer's market, as I am wont to do. It was green and about the size of a softball. I recalled it coming from a clearly-labeled box, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was called. It started with a 'C', I remembered that, and it was multi-syllabic. Google suggested cherimoya, but that wasn't it. I just couldn't figure it out. Well, no worries, I thought, I'll just stop back at that same booth next week and ask what it was. And so I chopped the thing up and ate it.
Oh, it tasted real bad. Hard as a rock-- I nearly hacked off a limb just splitting it in half-- and bitter. Made the roof of my mouth feel somehow sticky, and made my gums tingle. I pitched the thing in the trash after a few valiant bites.
Sheesh, what sort of natural pharmaceutical did I just eat?
I rocked up to the next week's market just brimming, and you watch, I'm gonna ask that fruit guy some questions.
But he wasn't there. In fact, he wasn't there again, ever. The mystery deepened. Months passed. Every so often it would bug me-- what WAS that?-- and I'd attempt some Google-fu. No dice.
Last week, though, last week... the fruit guy was back! He had a box of green softball-sized fruit! Labelled CASIMIROA. Finally, I could spit out that thing that had been on the tip of my tongue all this time.
And yep, that's what I ate. By all accounts it's apparently a lovely fruit. My problem was that the one I encountered was just tragically underripe. Yeah, a whole year spent ruminating on that. I know, pathetic, I toldya.
UPDATE 14-May-2011: Got a ripe one! It tastes like a pear. After all this buildup I am underwhelmed.
1 comment:
A pear taste? Ha!!
Post a Comment