Pomegrantastic!

This week I bought my first pomegranate. They were on sale at Whole Foods when I did my grocery shopping and I thought, why not?


I used to think that if I were a fruit, I would be an avocado. It's one of my top three favorite foods, it's a native of southern California, it is an excellent addition to all of my favorite easy meals to make for myself: grilled cheese, fajitas, scrambled eggs, salads...


But really, avocados are far too agreeable for me to truly relate to. Their skin is thin and their flesh is smooth, soft, and mild. They have only one big flaw: the pit in the center. The character of the avocado is simple, palatable, excellent for one's hair and skin.


As I broke into my pomegranate this evening, I couldn't help but feel a sense of metaphoric understanding of the challenging fruit. It takes strategy and preparation to open a pomegranate. You really have to commit to the pomegranate. It is not a fruit to be eaten recreationally...it must be taken very seriously.


I held it over the sink as I carefully made shallow incisions into its skin that would allow me to pull it into quarters without breaking too many of the seeds open inside. Tiny flecks of bright red juice splattered my hands and the kitchen counter. My mouth was already watering at the thought of tasting that first juicy kernel as it burst between my teeth.


I imagine if one did not know how delicious a pomegranate tasted, it may not seem worth the time it takes to peel it open. One might think to themselves "Goddam, I hate this motherfucking pomegranate! It's such a phenomenal pain in the ass!" as the juice squirts all over the kitchen. But after one taste of the luscious nectar inside, there would be no turning back. Both quenching and perpetuating thirst, the pomegranate's simultaneous sweetness and tartness always inspires one to want more.


The pomegranate has a thick skin that's ultimately spongy and vulnerable on the inside. It takes a lot of time and effort to crack it open, but once you do, it's insides burst forth onto display. Each seed inside is like a tiny jewel, embedded safely in it's eggy casing. Once cracked open, the work has just begun. You must then take time and care to pry each tiny little jewel from its sedentary state of rest. The pomegranate is very reluctant to be eaten. It wants to stay self-contained. But unlike a coconut, it succumbs to consumption easily once broken open, suggesting that behind its hard, defensive exterior, the pomegranate is really desperate to be consumed, to inspire the tastebuds of whomever has invested the time in opening it up. Unlike the simple avocado, the pomegranate has hundreds of little seeds, and unlike the avocado's blunt, heavy pit, the pomegranate's delicate little seeds are the assets of the fruit. The casing of the seeds is irrelevant, without use...but the seeds themselves are full of rich, luxurious, anti-oxidant filled value. The flaws of the fruit are its treasures as well.


In Armenia, pomegranates are a popular symbol of fertility, abundance and marriage.


In Greek mythology, pomegranates play a key role in the story of Persephone, which offers an explanation of the changing of the seasons. Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and taken to the underworld to be his wife. Her mother Demeter was the goddess of the Harvest and as she mourned the loss of her daughter, all green things ceased to grow. Zeus demanded that Hades return Persephone to the Earth so that the winter would end. Before letting Persephone go, Hades tricked her into eating four pomegranate seeds. The law of the Fates stated that whomever ate food from the underworld would be doomed to stay there for eternity. Because of the four pomegranate seeds she consumed, Persephone was forever doomed to return to the underworld for four months of every year. Each year when her daughter descends into the underworld, Demeter goes into mourning and winter settles over the Earth.


Thriving in tropical climates, robust and curvacious, hard yet delicate, juicy and challenging, complicated, slightly esoteric...


Yes, if I were a fruit, I would definitely be a pomegrante.


If I ever break down entirely and resort to internet dating, that will be the headline of my profile.


Perhaps also the first line of my autobiography.