An ode to the pear. A modest fruit. I'm uncertain as to what kind of foolishness incites the curious relationship I have with the pear. I am confused by my own feelings. One day I will crave the aromatic buttery flesh. The next I am indifferent. It's nothing the pear has done. It's me, not you, pear. The pear has the right to stand proud and magnificent in its russeted skin. When I can be bothered to sink my teeth into the bulbous rear I almost always regret not doing so sooner. I feel ashamed for neglecting the pear for so long. I vow never to do so again as long as I live. But of course, this I have forgotten by the following sunrise. I am fickle. My attentions are stolen away in a flight of fancy with the exotic banana and its libertine ways. I rendezvous with the royal gala and its crisp and firm rotundness. I will savour those precious moments spent with the pear when the mood again takes me. Until then, patient pear.
You ever had pear+gorgonzola pizza? It's good that is (apologies if we've talked about this before). Also please could you email me your email address to my email address? It is ed dot garland at gmail dot com. I am no longer on facebook (how long will that last?)
ReplyDelete