pomegranate





coming back from the store i looked in a fuddle at the bottle of juice in one hand and the small plastic box of seeds in the other. as so often i'd gone out to get bread, and on my way thought as of a vague notion, if that, what dinner might be and ended up with a handle-bag of blood oranges, some fish, potatoes, an avocado, one purple globe artichoke, paper towels and these here pomegranates, whole, juice and seed. i unpacked in the kitchen and kept thinking about adam and eve, the forbidden fruit, how sometimes it was an apple and then an apricot, depending, and then in genesis, of all things a fig? and now a pomegranate. this whole business, de ligno autem scientiae boni et mali, that old adage of the forbidden had always been an unresolved puzzle to me, that constant confusion of good and evil, on a tree? for pete's sake, why? now why would any some god forbid to have at any some fruit in the first place? he coulda got clearance and understanding, hence absolution, had he gone to a finder of facts over at an early beta of google. oughter have done the research on that snake and eve and pitiful adam. being a google of sorts himself, an omniscient one at that, why would he bother with fruit? i opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass to better understand.






and so it came to be that dinner tonight was a glorification of halibut. pestled arils, those seeds from above, together with vodka walnuts from my larder, made for a dry paste. emulsified with juice it served as a base for the fish. the filet cooked in olive oil just to be flaky, strained orange juice added for some small acidic moisture. but before that, and as a hint, a steamed artichoke. this you can imagine, with a dipping of, yes, pomegranate juice, hot and amalgamated with butter. a twist of pepper, some crunchy sea salt, all is well, dinner, as if by divine intervention, turned out to be celest appropriation of stuff simply landed on whim.