Matthew made squid spaghetti last night.
But after dinner he sliced open a papaya. I had blogged about this fruit (it is extraordinarily good for you, maybe even better than any other fruit with its loads of fiber, folate, lycopene, and Vitamins A and C) and eaten papaya sorbet before, but I had never tried it. Using our green handled cheap, sharp knife, he split the long fruit into quarters. Julie tried a seed, which in fact is edible, but she said that after the sweet chewiness, it was bitter, and spit it out. Its grapefruit –colored flesh glistened. It was ripe.
Matthew said to squeeze lime on it; he had done this before, but I wanted to try the fruit in its purity. I took a slice and cut back the skin, which was maybe a millimeter thick, revealing a wet pink square. As I bit into it, juices oozed. I moved over to the garbage can, and then the sink so as not to drip on the floor.
Silently we sucked at the skin like monkeys, filling ourselves with the powerhouse fruit. The word Matthew used to describe the papaya was ‘ancestral.’ “Is it your new favorite fruit?” he asked. “No,” I said shaking my head. But I certainly won’t turn it down when it’s offered.