TheBanyanTree: I had forgotten "grape"

[Julie Anna Teague]

I pulled a box of green grapes out of the fridge last night.  I had 
bought them at the farmer's market--seedless, locally grown, no 
spray--and then lost them behind some other veggies for a few days.  I 
thought I'd better pull them out right then and start eating them 
before they went bad.  I can't stand to watch produce wither and rot 
before we get to it.  Throwing out what was once a bright yellow, 
organic pepper, or cleaning up the rotted remains of a striped, 
heirloom tomato can make me feel awful.  And yet, hard as we try, this 
sometimes happens in these days of summer abundance.  I was only mildly 
in the mood for grapes.  Sometimes I crave grapes only to be greatly 
disappointed when I bite into some fleshy, flavorless orb.  I've been 
eating grapes for years with no expectations beyond a somewhat juicy 
texture.  They are most often, in the end, not very satisfying to the 
tastebuds.

The first grape was fireworks going off in my mouth.  I couldn't 
believe it.  It was grapey like I remembered from childhood.  Concord 
grapey, but sweet.  Like the grapes in my grandmother's back yard, 
picked warm from the vine as I ran by,  playing.  I yelled to my 
partner that he had to come and eat some of these grapes.  I could tell 
by his face that his expectations were not much higher than mine.  And 
then, like me, his face was transformed.  These grapes were not a 
snack, they were an experience.  They were a memory.  They were 
barefoot children, feet stained with grass, beckoned by a ripe 
grapevine, and taking for granted that grapes would always be this good.

I realized then that I had forgotten the flavor of grape.  Somewhere 
between childhood and adulthood, I had accepted a poor substitute, like 
some people do with pink-fleshed, hothouse tomatoes.  Our fingers were 
sticky and frangrant with grape.  The smell of grapes pervaded the 
kitchen and changed me back into that golden, grassy, summer child.  
Who once had grandparents with grapes and strawberries and tomatoes 
growing in the backyard.  Who once snapped beans and husked sweetcorn 
every night for dinner.  Who once knew the flavor of grape.

Julie