Introducing My Friend to Pomegranates

It was twenty-nine degrees Celsius one night in the middle of August. My big fan, the only reason why I’d been able to avoid buying an AC throughout that unbearably hot summer, was blasting at its second-to-highest setting.   I was sprawled on my bed, watching Trevor Noah videos and ignoring my cramps, as well as my prior plans of going to bed at least a couple of hours before midnight that night. My friend, Grace knocked on the door.

“Come in!” I answered.

She opened the door slightly, holding a up a small pomegranate. ‘How do you eat this?’

We had gone grocery shopping together the previous weekend, and I'd spotted some pomegranates and picked up a few. ‘You have to try this!’, I'd excitedly told Grace, who had never had pomegranates before. I had only started eating them several months ago myself, and I had found them a more than suitable dietary companion in the cold winter months.

I stood up and went to the door.

‘I’ll help you cut it.’ I took the fruit and we walked towards the kitchen. 

‘Do you eat them like apples?’ She had taken a tiny bite off the red skin. 

‘Nah, you can’t eat the skin at all. You eat the seeds.’

‘The seeds?!’

I laughed. 

‘I need a flat dish and a knife’.  She handed them to me and I cut the pomegranate into halves, then quarters.  

‘This isn’t usually how to cut them, but this is how I do. Don’t eat the white part- turn out the fruit this way,’ I showed her ‘then bite off the seeds.’

She took a piece and bit off some of the seeds, chewing. Distaste registered on her face pretty quick.  I’d had one of the pomegranates during the weekend and I’d been slightly disappointed too. I observed her and said,  ‘It may be slightly bitter. It’s just this batch- the ones I had last winter were better tasting but I can’t remember where I bought them.’

‘Do people swallow this?’

I burst into laughter. ‘Y-yes.’

She spit out the seeds. ‘Never again. This is the worst fruit I’ve ever tasted.’

I was caught between amusement and surprise. Somehow I'd just assumed she’d like them too. I fought to contain the laughter that her visceral reaction provoked, and failed. She laughed too. 

‘You don’t like it?’

‘Nah, not at all! Thank God I only bought one.’

I had some peaches on the counter. ‘Would you like to try a peach? Have you ever had them?’

‘No I haven’t. I’m not sure if I’d like them.’

I found the softest one and rinsed it, then offered it to her. ‘Try this.’

‘Do I eat the skin? It feels kinda hard.’

‘Yes, you eat the skin. That’s the seed you are feeling- just eat around it like an apple.’

She bit into it.

‘Do you like it?',  I asked her, half-expectantly.

She took her time before responding, then said, ‘Not really.’

This time I was intrigued. I’d had one of those peaches that afternoon and they were so delicious, that eating them felt almost blissful. They were from Okanagan, on the western coast of Canada. 'Okanagan Peaches', the plastic box they came in had read, in orange-on-black squiggly lettering.

‘I like it better than the pomegranate still. Thank you.’ she volunteered. I believed her- this time her expression was less disenchanted.

‘No worries. You are not very adventurous with food are you?’ I asked in humour. 

She shook her head from side to side. ‘No I’m not. I like Apples, Oranges, Guavas, Grapes- the usual things’, she responded with a self-deprecating smile.

We bade each other goodnight and I took the offending pomegranate slices with me. I felt an amusingly odd bit of affection for the beautiful, complicated fruit after it’s rejection. I picked up a slice, and biting off a chunk of its deep ruby seeds, I chewed continuously for what felt like minutes, and then swallowed the fibrous matter.