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Sunday, 22 July 2012

Fruit Salad for Oscar


I was terribly intrigued by something an old school friend of mine, the very lovely L, recently posted on Facebook. Namely: “Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative” - Oscar Wilde

Meanwhile, a lesser genius (me) looked skywards, many a time in the last several months, and asked with a sigh - “How many tears hath this heaven?”

Same difference.
(poetic brilliance aside)

Anyhow, in defence of myself and the current generation of his countrymen, I’d like to inform Mr Wilde, that when the sun has eluded one for the better part of a year, it’s fairly hard to be imaginative.

Think: rain, rain, rain. grey, grey, grey. dull, dull, dull.
Do you feel imaginative?

And thus, sick and tired of trying to use what little was left of my once thriving, now dwindling imagination, to come up with creative, season-appropriate fare, I put my hands up in the air and conceded defeat.

And ran away to Spain.
Where it seems the sun never stops shining.
And where, by Wildean logic, imagination should run wild like a Cheetah in the Serengeti.

Whatever.

Anyhow, I'm happy to report that at long last it seems that the heavens have stopped shedding their copious tears and given way to the bluest of English summer skies.

That or the Spanish sun got taken by my winsome smile and decided to follow me home.
That's what I'd like to think.
My husband says I'm full of poppycock.
But when have I paid any attention to what he says anyway?

Hee!

So, as you know from here - I spent an inordinate amount of my Spanish holiday in here.

For the Mercat de La Boqueria in Barcelona, a chaotic brilliant feast for the senses, is reason enough to warrant a visit to this dynamic, alive and energetic city. Stalls piled high with fresh seafood, meat, eggs, cheese, vegetables, hanging legs of the prized jamon iberico

And fruit, fruit, fruit.

This is what pulls me into the cool, dark, cavernous depths. 
And makes me never want to leave.
For I love fruit.
And everywhere in La Boquería there is fruit.

...Of every conceivable colour and shape. Blush orange and pink peaches; apples – green, red and gold; custard apples and papayas, mangoes and dragon fruit; oranges – shiny and round and sweet; coconuts and figs and burgundy cherries; baskets of bright carmine currants; raspberries and blueberries and blackberries; melons dripping with juice…all beautifully arranged in colour-coordinated tiers with the painstaking detail of an aficionado; the genius of an artist.

We’d saunter across every morning before getting on with the day's happenings and grab a bowlful of fresh cut mixed fruit, mysteriously labeled “macedonia.” I had to look this up, (because curiosity kills the cat) and this is what I found...(!??)

In any case, it was a simple, sweet and lovely start to the day. And this is what we’re doing today. Because, simple, sweet and lovely, is the true meaning of Life.

(Ignore me, I spout utter nonsense before the caffeine kicks in)

Droning on then...
Of course no mention of fruit salad is complete without bringing to mind my sweet friend M, because once upon a time (I don't know if she still does this) she'd get up and make a fruit salad for her hubby, A, before he left for work!
Now - has a thought of greater virtue ever crossed your noble minds?

Contrast that if you will, to the following real life scenario in the household of a less virtuous mortal:
Alarm rings, Sid wakes.
I sleep.
Because, hearing is one "sense" my darling husband is endowed with, that's stronger than mine. God always gives one some compensating attribute, that's what I always say...

Anyway:
Sid showers, changes, leaves.
I sleep.

Most of the time, I'm not even aware that all of this stuff happens. It's like a dream. Excuse the pun.
Of course sometimes there's the odd "I gave u a kiss goodbye when I left for work this morning..."
"Ohhhh...ummm...yeah....it was...delicious"
(Oops)

What can I say?
We all have our different strengths. 
Making fruit salad at the crack of dawn is not one of mine (yet)
But I am making it on an exquisitely warm Sunday morning at 11am.
So be proud of me, M - I'm getting closer :)

Here’s what you need:
I kg of mixed fruit such as:
Pineapple
Mango
Kiwi
Cherries
Peaches
Tangerines
Melons
Grapes

For the dressing (simple, sweet and lovely): 
2 tbsp runny honey
½ tsp grated orange rind
2 tbsp orange juice
2 tbsp pineapple juice
1 tsp lemon juice

Here’s how you do it:
Pour the orange and pineapple juices into a bowl. Stir in honey and whisk until it's combined.
Cut the fruit into slices or chunks. Pour the dressing over the fruit and toss it to combine.

Chill and enjoy!

Granted, this is less a recipe, and more an idea - but hey! When a clever, dead man accuses me of being unimaginative, I really do feel compelled to respond...


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