Indecent Taste

It's a funny thing writing a blog. It really is. On one hand it's great to have to opportunity to share experiences; things seen, done, thought and avoided. But on the other, it can be a very risky thing, for once something is posted there is no going back. It's out there. On the web. For all to see.

So it is with some trepidation that I write this blog. It's contents are so shocking that I may never have the nerve to post it. Let's see….

Well, it all started in the green grocers at the top of the street. Ours, being run by an Asian family, sells all manner of exotic vegetables, fruits and others items so odd that I can't tell which food group they belong to. Not that I have bought any of the exotic items. I mean, what am I supposed to do with a fruit that has spikes on it? Obviously nature put those spikes on for a reason and was determined that a casual passer-by, or curious shopper, wouldn't be tempted to put one in their mouth. No way. 

Then there are those that have clearly been made up, like the Tangelo for example. This, being a cross between a tangerine and a grapefruit, must have been the result of a drunken night at the food laboratory. Did the tangerine really need improving? I don’t think so. And as for grapefruit. Well they are a bit tart but does that really warrant experimenting with food?

We will soon be coming into Feijoa season and I can't wait....not! These fruit literally fall from the sky and New Zealanders go mad for them. With thousands of trees planted around the towns and countryside a bumper crop is guaranteed. And the things that they can do with them; added to pies, cakes, ice cream. Eaten on their own and with friends. By mid-winter the office is usually awash with the little green, tart fruit. "Free Feijoas in level two kitchen" boasts the customary near-daily email. Yes, by August it is fair to say that Feijoa Fatigue sets in. Although they won't admit to it, they are sick of the sight of the little bastards. "Please! No more!" they scream as yet another carrier bag full dumped unceremoniously in the kitchen.

And what amazes me is that supermarkets sell them. Who on earth buys Feijoas when they are rolling around the streets? Maybe they have to. Maybe, if supermarkets didn't take their fair share then roads would be blocked, footpaths closed and life would grind to a halt by the inundation of green fleshed fruit. Maybe that explains why Kiwis bolt down the fruit ten at one sitting.

"How many Feijoas have you had today?"

"Twenty or so"

"Twenty? That's not nearly enough!"

"But..but"

"But nothing. Get another ten down you - do you want to drown in fruit? We need to eat our way through this deluge..."

And don't get me started on Tamarillos. For the uninitiated, or rather the unwary, I will quote from Wikipedia;

“Tamarillo, is a small tree or shrub in the flowering plant family Solanaceae (the nightshade family). It is best known as the species that bears the tamarillo, an egg-shaped edible fruit.^[2] It is also known as the tree tomato,^[3]”

You will notice in that quote, the phrase "...edible fruit". Whilst that may be true - indeed the fruit won't kill you if you eat one - but I take exception with anyone who says they enjoy the experience. I, whilst on a trip to our aforementioned local grocers, decided to buy a bag. I was curious and besides, the dark red fruit looked so tempting. How could I refuse? I wish I had. I wish I had walked on by and stuck with the apples that I had came to buy. But no. I had to be adventurous. How do they taste? Well imagine a passion fruit crossed with a tomato. Imagine eating a fruit that tastes juicy and sweet only to be over powered by the taste of tomato. Oh I know that tomatoes are a fruit but I wouldn't want one in a fruit salad or on my ice cream. Similarly, I wouldn't put a passion fruit in my Ragù. Sometimes curiosity is best left where it it. I did my best to get through these devil fruit but still, every time I opened the fridge door, there was the bag of Tamarillos staring back at me. I did try, but failed and ended up throwing them out. They were past their best anyway. Not surprising as they had been in the fridge for months as the battle of wills dragged on until it's inevitable conclusion.

Anyway, I have digressed somewhat so back to my recent visit to the grocers.....

Learning from my lessons with odd looking or tasting fruit, I didn't give them a second glance but then something caught my eye. There, wedged between the carrots and cabbage was a bag of brussel sprouts. "Brussel Sprouts!" I exclaimed, getting some odd looks from my fellow shoppers.  

Without a second thought I threw two bags into my basket. Oh how I'd missed these little fellas. 

It was only when I started to put the shopping into the fridge that I realised I might have a problem. Just what was I going to do with two kilos of brussels? Although it was approaching Autumn and cooling down, temperatures were still hovering around the mid-twenties. Hardly appropriate for roast beef, veg and gravy. Nobody wants to sit down to a roast dinner in vest, shorts and flip-flops.

I was beginning to fear another plant based stand-off when it struck me. No, not a brussel but a brilliant solution. I'd barbecue them! Why not?  People seem to barbecue everything here so why not a brussel sprout? Buoyed by this wonderful innovation I set about preparing the delicacy; covering them in olive oil, adding some crushed garlic and a little salt. Perfect. 

Within a few minutes the barbecue was hot and without any further ceremony I threw my new creation onto the flames and looked heaven-ward……

Now there is one thing you should know about grilled brussel sprouts. They don’t go very soft. If mushy sprouts are your thing ,and by your book an hours boiling is not long enough, then these hard bullets are not for you. But, on the other hand, if you like your veg crunchy with a hint of garlic and not-so-subtle charcoal notes then these are just the ticket. Barbequed sprouts, who would’ve thought it? And not a christmas pudding in sight. Oh, wait. We’ve got two in the cupboard leftover from Christmas. What shall I do with them? Grilled christmas pudding. Now there’s an idea……