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06 January 2009
I like prunes. They taste so good, and are really versatile, too.
My brother refers to my mom's kitchen as "the constipation station," which is true only if you don't eat your whole meal, including the fruit salad she kindly provides, prunes and all. I like to fart and shit, and I bet I'd be pretty unhappy here without prunes. Also she makes wicked strong coffee, which my brother doesn't drink, so he'll be bunged up 'til he gets with the double-flush program.
Staying on topic, the idiot doorman who leaves the door open not only didn't flush but crapped on the seat in the staff toilet (near the mailroom, sometimes I use it if I don't think I can last an elevator ride) last night.
Man... Prunes to me are tied up in memories of my Gran. She was in her 90s, living with us, and would boil water, add a few prunes to a cup, leave them covered with a saucer overnight, and eat them (and drink the water) in the morning. She claimed it cured her arthritis. She'd then hoist her skirt up, tuck it into her huge granny knickers, hike a leg up on to a chair, and "do her exercises" regardless of who could see her.
But I can't see, smell, or even think of prunes without thinking about Gran.
I totally understand, i've felt that way before and it's awful.
It always happens to me when I go up into the mountains (like this past weekend). Something about going from a few feet above sea level to 4K feet gives me awful bubbles. I've noticed that the same thing happens to bags of Dorito chips: they swell up and sometimes pop. Then I asked my friends if they were having the same problem (clearly, we are close friends) and they all fessed up to having the same problem.
Don't like 'em. Years ago I worked at this private school where we had a cook. She was a terrible cook and the food she served was a pity and a disgrace. One of her favorite things to do was to make brownies in which she had put a large amount of pureed prunes. She would crow "You can't even taste 'em!" Only you could. You really could. And it was frustrating, because otherwise they looked like really good chocolate brownies. But they just ended up tasting too...nutritious. You know, like carob, or chocolate chip cookies made with whole wheat flour.
I love prunes. I have a giant tub of them at my desk at work, and have to be really careful to not go overboard. Like Stewriffic. Which I did today. *toot*
I used to have a job where I roasted hundreds of chickens and rounds of beef at a time, to sit in a warm oven for shabbat dinner service, and the sauces I made invariably had prunes in them. Prunes take the sting out of garlic without overpowering sweetness. They pair well with citrus, with pears, with most meats (though probably not most fishes). I dunno, I really meant this as a "dig the flavor" not a "dig the effect" post, but I'll take both. Try simmering prunes in wine, red or white.
Oh, and jonathanstrange, prunes also remind me of my great uncle Ben, who is now 96 and hale. He and my great aunt Gertrude always drank prune juice during their visits, though they smelled more like the vinyl lining of their yellow American Tourister luggage. I love thinking about them both.
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