A Wasp's Delight
From Jonah Cool as he observes the seasons change on the eastern seaboard.
Like many Saturdays, this one began at the Farmer’s market. As the season turns tomatoes and basil are quickly replaced by squash and wide leafy greens. I love when the weather develops a little bite and the flavors are sweet. My oven is excited for braising and roasting. As I shopped I ran into a number of good friends allowing time to talk about food and life. One particular friend asked where I had found some delicatta squash the week before and I pointed her in what I thought was the right direction. As I left the market I realized my directions were wrong and was overcome with the guilt of depraving her. I can’t have that kind of weight on my conscience. I quickly called and arranged to drop a few of the tasty treats at her house.
Upon arrival there was a small wooden bowl on the door step, which I immediately recognized as her fig bowl. During the summer, fresh figs were piled in the unassuming bowl. In exchange for the squash she had left me two figs that were without qualification perfect; so perfect I could only take one. Starting with the white tops they ran down into purple and, eventually, brown reminiscent of idealized prints of Mount Fuji at sunrise.
I grabbed one and jumped in my car to drive home.
About a block from the house, I had to stop. I pulled my car up to a stop sign and looked down at the fig. Coating the figs inner processes was a thin layer of bright orange pollen. I was in shock. Initially, the pollen provided a reminder of the Fig’s enchanting provenance. However, these wasps had the good grace to season my fruit for me. The pollen imparted a nutty earthy flavor to the sweet and smooth texture of the fruit. Unbelievable. I kept driving and taking small bites to prolong the life of my fig. These bites were not to be squandered.
From Jonah Cool as he observes the seasons change on the eastern seaboard.
Like many Saturdays, this one began at the Farmer’s market. As the season turns tomatoes and basil are quickly replaced by squash and wide leafy greens. I love when the weather develops a little bite and the flavors are sweet. My oven is excited for braising and roasting. As I shopped I ran into a number of good friends allowing time to talk about food and life. One particular friend asked where I had found some delicatta squash the week before and I pointed her in what I thought was the right direction. As I left the market I realized my directions were wrong and was overcome with the guilt of depraving her. I can’t have that kind of weight on my conscience. I quickly called and arranged to drop a few of the tasty treats at her house.
Upon arrival there was a small wooden bowl on the door step, which I immediately recognized as her fig bowl. During the summer, fresh figs were piled in the unassuming bowl. In exchange for the squash she had left me two figs that were without qualification perfect; so perfect I could only take one. Starting with the white tops they ran down into purple and, eventually, brown reminiscent of idealized prints of Mount Fuji at sunrise.
I grabbed one and jumped in my car to drive home.
About a block from the house, I had to stop. I pulled my car up to a stop sign and looked down at the fig. Coating the figs inner processes was a thin layer of bright orange pollen. I was in shock. Initially, the pollen provided a reminder of the Fig’s enchanting provenance. However, these wasps had the good grace to season my fruit for me. The pollen imparted a nutty earthy flavor to the sweet and smooth texture of the fruit. Unbelievable. I kept driving and taking small bites to prolong the life of my fig. These bites were not to be squandered.
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