No, really. At Wegman's the other day, I spotted a lovely display of fresh Italian prunes. No, not the dried fruit, but the close relation of the plum. Slightly smaller and more ovoid, the fresh prune has that same sweet juiciness hidden beneath a rich purple skin.
When I was small, we had a pony, and for the first few years of her time with us, she lived in a small paddock in our oversized yard, complete with a small barn built just for her. In the midst of her paddock stood a sturdy prune tree. We all enjoyed its fruit, but Kandy Pony more than the rest of us. She would rub her butt against the tree trunk to shake loose the barely ripe prunes, then scoop them up, delicately spitting out the pits as she nibbled.
A fresh prune's purple skin is tinged with white, easily removed with a quick rub against a cotton t-shirt. The flesh just under the skin is always tartest, sometimes to the point of triggering "sourface"--that involuntarily squinching of one eye that often accompanies an Altoid's sour candy. Each bite is mixed with sweet and sour.
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2 comments:
Me, I had a hard time getting past the words, "we had a pony." Doesn't EVERY child want a pony? you spoiled child, you. :)
Yeah, but Kandy Pony *actually* belonged to my sister, Candy. (The pony came with the name, hence the appelation "pony" or "KP" for short.) And we only had her for a few years, during which time I was not old enough or brave enough to learn to ride.
I will admit to some fond memories, after we had to board the pony several miles away due to the complaint of a few neighbors regarding zoning violations, of riding across several acres mudflats --the beginnings of a vast development that after many years became a Big Suburban Mall.
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