Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Thoughts on Eating a Grapefruit

I can’t eat a grapefruit when I am hungry. Properly consuming such a fine piece of agricultural produce requires a concentration and patience that I do not have when I am hungry. Furthermore, in the hyperirritable state I find myself when hungry, I find the spray of wasted delicious pink juices extremely annoying. Usually I give in to the baser self and attempt to forego the requisite preparation for consummation and try to scoop the tiny triangles of fruit meatiness out with a traditional spoon. And I fail miserably.

And even more miserably, even if I successfully navigate myself through the entire grapefruit I end even hungrier than I began. Because we all know that the fruit and vegetable kingdom is not accepted as real food where the hungry man’s stomach is concerned (With of course the notable exception of the meat of the fruit world the banana and a few others).

Despite the given shortcomings of the grapefruit in said situation it remains one of my favorite ingestion experiences. First, there is the purely asthetic experience of the grapefruit. Externally its yellow-orange skin is graced with an artists kiss of rogue on one end like the suns rays especially shone on one small arc. And the perfect sphere is disrupted on the micro-level with the tiny dimples of texture. On the macro-level, the sphere is ever so slightly incomplete as one point features a slight infolding reminding the viewer that the grapefruit did in fact come from the earth. Most striking, however, is the natural size, not cartoonish like the watermelon or the slightly-to-big-for-one-hand cantelouope. The grapefruit pushes the limits of something held in one hand, providing a surprising size for potentially the world’s largest single serving fruit.

And the inside of the grapefruit only enhances its glowing exterior. The white spokes contrasting the pink meat separate each distinct triangular prism into bite size morsels o flavor. And, frustratingly at times, the bond between the pink and white is so strong as to force even the most impatient diner to wait as the knife slices the pink flesh away from its captor. The flavor is literally palpable before the first bite, because of the unavoidable spray of the acidic contents.

My preferred method is to divide the fruit into two acts. That is, after separating the two halves, I will prepare one with a steak knife, and then consume it before moving on to the second half. And so a moment’s worth of work sets the table for a even more fleeting moment’s consumption.

And afterwards, not completely unlike the famous giving tree, the grapefruit provides a post-meal cordial. Amazingly, after methodically slicing out the seeming entire pulpy goodness from the fruit, a perfect glass-worth of country-style-full-pulp juice remains.

So the grapefruit provides an eating experience, in my mind unparalleled by any of the tubers, fruits, and vegetables of the natural world. I just only have to remind myself that a grapefruit must be consumed in context. And that context is essentially reduced to whilst not edging on ravenous.

No comments: