pomegranates

There is no part of pomegranate eating that is labor free.

My son first brought a chunk of pomegranate home from school one day, after successfully trading a part of his lunch for this new treasure.  (Lunchbox trading--another whole parallel universe to my kitchen preparations, when the value of any given item is not proportionate to it's enjoyment to your child, but to its trading value at the school lunch room table.  I had no idea.)  Back to pomegranates ...  I had never seen anything like it: bright magenta little seeds packed with juice ready to squirt a mile at the least provocation. 

You can't slice into the fruit without releasing a red stream onto the counter top, or shooting onto the nearest white shirt. There is no way to coax the seeds from their white tissue membranes without inadvertantly squishing a seed or two, or letting one slip onto the floor where your foot will unwittingly contribute to the carnage. 

"Put it into a bowl of water," my son recommended.  "The white stuff floats to the top and all you have left is the seeds."
Right.  That's only after you have wrestled them apart, leaving the water stained, and now the water also joins the forces bent on wrecking havoc on your kitchen. 

I stood in front of a woman at Costco who bought an entire case of them.  12 pomegranates. 
I tried to bite my tongue.  You don't just strike up pomegranate conversations in the busy pre-Christmas Costco check-out chaos. 

Well, yes, apparently some of us do. 
"How do you serve the pomegranates?" I asked innocently, hoping that she had some secret that she would be willing to share in such a setting. 

She smiled, and said "You only eat the seeds."
"Yes," I acknowledged.  Nodding. 
She continued... "I cut them up, separate the seeds, and put them into bags for my kids lunches." 

I looked surreptitiously at her shirt (not white), her fingers (no stains ... yet), her eyes (she looked completely rational). 

"They are really healthy,"she added. 

I did not go back and get my own case.  But I did stop at Extra Foods yesterday and bought
one.  The deceptive smooth round reddish balls sit invitingly on the grocery shelves.

Yesterday, while my bathrooms renovations started, pumpkin muffins were in the works, and the syrupy beginnings to peppernuts were warming on the stove, I cut up that fruit.  Oh, the mess.  But I put all the seeds into a small bowl, and then took spoonfuls throughout the afternoon. 

The one moment that is worth all the work is the moment you clamp down on a mouthful of sweet, juicy seeds.  Your mouth fills with a tart, refreshingly delicious red.  Just that one moment.  You might keep the seeds in your mouth for a while, trying to work out the last bit of flavor before spitting them out. 



And now, the final straw.  Google. 
How to de-seed a pomogranate

This is not my counter top after wrestling with a persnickety pomegranate.  And the "How to" instructions recommend a specific cutting technique followed by ... immersion in water.  (Yes.  You were right Adam.  I was wrong, and impatient.)  Well. I've run fresh out of experimental pomegranates.  We'll see how long it takes me to gather enough courage to bring another one home. 
Apparently pomegranates join team Astillbe.  (see post from July 9th...)

I am not competitive.