I know I am a little bit OCD about things. If I get something into my mind that I truly enjoy, I will spend hours and days on it. For instance, I spent most of January putting together a little cocktail cookbook for friends and family. Then, I quickly lost interest and I doubt I look at another cocktail recipe for some time.
When I lose interest, I mean I really lose interest…and motivation and inspiration.
It’s a wonder this blog has survived as long as it has.
That all being said, I was so taken by Bite by Bite that I decided I would try to tackle the writing prompts from the back of that book. We will see how dedicated I am and how long I stay with this new idea.
(I was also re-energized a bit as I remembered a food writing workshop I attended in 2017.)
Prompt 1:
What is the earliest memory you have of trying a new (to you, at the time) fruit? Describe where and when this happened and try to explain the texture and smell as precisely as possible.
We grew up with a lot of fruit trees around us. My mom was raised in the western part of the state where few trees grew. When our family settled in north-central Oklahoma and our homestead already had some ancient peach trees on it, she planted more. I remember having some old mulberry trees too.
We left the mulberries for the birds.
If a neighbor said they had too many pears, we would show up with five-gallon buckets to pick. If someone said their cherries were ripe and to come and pick our fill, we were there. (Sometimes we took a ladder to get to the very top.)
Then we would set about canning and freezing our harvest.
Ironically, I don’t ever really remember those peach trees producing much.
The reason mom was so enamored with fresh, homegrown fruit? It goes back to where she grew up. In Western Oklahoma the only fruit one found seemed to be the sand plum. Picking these wild little berry-like fruits was an adventure and one had to be a little brave. They grew down the road from my grandmother’s house on a cliff. You dodged thorns and sand burrs while trying not to tumble down into the dry creek bed. After what seemed like hours of picking (and scratching and itching), you might get enough for a few jars of jelly.
And that my friend, is the only thing a sand plum is good for. Jelly making. With lots and lots of sugar. Maybe I ate them before they were totally ripe, but I remember my first taste as grossly tart and almost bitter. Even though the skin popped like an apple, there was little sweetness. Good god, I thought, why are we picking these things?
No wonder mom is fruit tree crazy. Sand plums cannot hold a candle to peaches, pears and cherries picked right off the tree.
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