30 June 2007


I just started a food writing thing. (note to self, "thing" is not a descriptor).

So I'm posting my first...um...thing.

About an Apple

An apple crisp in my mouth is as satisfying as any steak. My teeth bite through the flesh and the fruit gives way to juice and meal. Held in my hand, I eat hurriedly and worry I might bite a thumb or finger as I work my way around the sphere.

I prefer apples brought to room temperature, neither hot nor cold as to not scour my teeth—I like to keep myself out of it when I’m eating. A good piece of fruit, a vegetable rich in flavor, or a piece of meat cooked to perfection will transport this diner beyond her physical self. This can cause problems as she would like to stay there—but alas her belly fills to the brim and her body cries to come back.

I come back and find one more bite left; I'll make it fit. The last bite is not as good as the first, for I’ve already satiated my urges, but the juice of the last bite drips down my chin and catches the eye of my dining partner. He steps forward to help and whisks me up in a deep, fruity kiss, satisfying both of my appetites.


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Blogger foodette said...

That's one damn sexy apple. Nice prose-poetry!

30 June, 2007 22:04  
Blogger Baby Jess said...

Great description, I have got to say apples have got to be the best fruit. I love them!

02 July, 2007 10:27  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I miss rr and tt already. Keep a spot warm for me on the top chef viewing couch. I will be rooting for you both to keep the celery search on :)

05 July, 2007 00:33  

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