I just looked back at my last few posts. A casual reader would assume I am a food obsessive. And a quick look at my girth might confirm the assumption.
I’m not. Or, I don’t think I am. I am merely starting to get back into a normal meal rhythm.
For the past year, I have not been cooking for myself on a regular basis. Eating, yes. Cooking, no.
The six months I was in Oregon, I ate almost every meal either at the company cafeteria or in a restaurant. When I returned to Mexico, I kept up the same habit. I ate at least two meals a day at local places to help keep the tourist economy rolling.
But when I returned from my cruise, I discovered I would need to change my eating plans. Most of the places where I ate are either closed until next November or have reduced their days of operation. And thus my hunt for ham and cherries and other bits of exotica to spruce up my own cooking.
Some of that exotica is close to home. At home, in fact.
There are several fruit trees in my back yard. Limes. Bananas. Mandarin oranges. Sour oranges. Fruits I have known most of my life.
But there is one that I have been waiting for almost a year to taste. A guanábana. One of Mexico's gifts to the rest of the tropical world.
It is an odd tree. Spindly with huge fruit. As if Twiggy had elected to sport a Mae West look.
During the past month, I have watched two guanábana fruits weigh down a single limb – almost to the breaking point. Yesterday, the largest was on the ground. In a single day, it had gone from unripe hard to as soft as a full diaper.
I broke it in half and gave a portion to my land lady. Inside is a white pulp filled with an incredibly fragrant nectar (somewhere between apple and banana – think Juicy Fruit gum).
I pulled out the pulp of my portion and stored it in the refrigerator. I grab a piece now and then. It is simply too taste-explosive to eat a lot at a time. But it is now one of my favorites.
The other large guanábana fruit is now under a daily food watch.
