Of the fruits Nicole Previously Didn’t Like (TM), grapefruit probably topped the list. Wait — tops. I’m still not completely convinced.
I once read a book where one of the characters tells her lover that she knew a lot about him the first time she saw him eating grapefruit for breakfast; he made some nasty reply, she stormed off in a huff — and needless to say, the relationship didn’t last. But I wonder if there is something to her comment …
Mostly, I’ve not liked grapefruit. It’s too sour, too messy, too just not for me. Pretty, yes, and loaded with Vitamin C, which is all well and good. It’s even purported to lower cholesterol and contain those lovely antioxidant properties. All of these things are very nice, of course, but the taste! It always left me feeling a bit cheated: the fruit is so beautifully, wonderfully pink that I expect it to taste be gentle and sweet; that bitter aftertaste is hard to swallow.
So I didn’t. And while eating something known as the “forbidden fruit” of Barbados is very tempting (beaches! tropical breezes! cloudless skies!), I have been quite obstinate about abstaining.
Then I decided, what the hell, to give it one last try. The grapefruit in question was from Trader Joe’s, and was exquisitely juicy, just the right amount of sweet. I was amazed. I tried another — and liked it, too. Now I’ve been eating them — occasionally — straight out of the fridge for a morning pick-me-up. That coolness, perhaps, cuts the sourness, and after I dig out all the sections I squeeze out the leftover juice from the rind so as not to waste any, and oh, it’s so good.
I don’t know if I’ve been getting up too early, or if there’s been a particularly wonderful crop this year, but I’ve been rethinking my position on grapefruit. I am cautiously optimistic. We may work out, after all.
Next, I shall have to bake with them.
Not tonight, though; my friend’s birthday is tomorrow which means dinner at Nopa, a chocolate cake to bake, and presents to procure.
Last weekend was spent in gloriously hot, mostly deserted Pt. Reyes, in sun and wind. We brought bread and cheese and hummus, baby carrots, and apple turnovers up to Mt. Vision and ate on top of the world while looking out over Limantour. There was also lots of good food, wine, and tea drinking, and a visit with a new dog. On Sunday we bought the first organic peaches of the season at the Sebastopol Farmers’ Market and the juice dripped down my arms and onto my toes, sticky and delicious.
To think that I get to do (most) of it all again this weekend: I am a lucky girl.