I’m taken back to my childhood, where we had a vine in our garden, and “organic” to the roots. Grapes were really juicy, and they had big bitter seeds inside. What is a grape without seed? Ha Ha – I know – seedless. Yes I asked for that, but seriously – will we be destined to eat genetically modified, tasteless fruit for all eternity until we pop over the waters to France?
I recall with clarity how we never believed that we had to pick the apricots before they were ripe, and it had to be first thing in the morning, before they got too hot in the summer sun. Of course we knew better – so sympathy was far and in between when you were crawling with cramps on the floor, and echoes of “I told you so!”
My dislike for peaches stems from the fresh peaches picked from the tree behind my Wendy house that looked totally edible, until you tasted the furry skin on your tongue, and was put off the texture for life. The plums had no problem hanging to maturity, as you knew the reward would not only be juicy – but juicy to the core, so you did not have to mind biting into the stone.
And then there was the avocado tree, the Pomelo trees, the oranges and the loose skinned big yellow lemons. And most importantly – God how I miss Figs. Ripe, soft and kind figs.
Fruit were juicy – even though the trees struggled at times with severe droughts and too much sun. There has to be a way that we can get fruit over here that has had the patience and time provided them with juices and pips – fully seeded and sweet.
Yes, we had fruit this weekend, and Rose wine and brilliant company and lazy dinners, but it was the biting into that seedless grape that reminded me – sometimes we need to mix bitter pips with the sweetest juice to have the greatest experience in life.