The one thing I love most about the GTA is the diversity of people who live here. So many different colours, languages, flavours. Where I live is rather vanilla, so heading down to Toronto where I am immersed in a rainbow of cultures makes me very happy. My craving for travelling afar can be held off a little longer by simply hopping on the TTC. So when Maria and I were out today and drove by a myriad of signs in a language I couldn't even begin to pronounce, we knew it was time to shop for supplies for task #2. Enter Spiceland, a little grocery store with a heap of character. Bizarre fruits and veggies, an Indian game show blaring on the tv mounted on the ceiling, and a heart-shaped box of chocolates called Pokey for You.
I bought a Wood Apple. It stinks of something that has eaten too many raisins, died and rotted under a log. It looks just like it sounds, a wooden apple. It even matches my countertop. It has a hard outer shell, and inside looks disgusting, brown and mushy, stringy and seedy. Oh so appealing.
Getting the sucker open was challenge enough. I followed the cashier's instructions- simply smash it down on the counter. No dice. Then I YouTubed it (yes, that's a verb), and a guy hacked one open with a knife. Again I failed. Dug out a chisel and a hammer... nada. Afraid of pissing off my basement dweller any further from all the banging about late at night, I ventured outside, channeled my inner rage, and pummeled the wood apple on the driveway. Tada! That's how you open a freaking Wood Apple. Might as well call it a cement apple.
Sadly, I am not a fan. I held my breath as the odour caused a college-hangover-style dry heave. I sprinkled some sugar on it, said a hopeful prayer for tasty delights, and choked it down. It was a confusing taste... like an apple crisp gone terribly awry, as though someone misread the recipe and added in something that had long decomposed in the back of the fridge.
I did my best. I have higher hopes for the other Spiceland purchases - a banana flower, and something that looks quite like a dried cow pattie. Can't wait...
I bought a Wood Apple. It stinks of something that has eaten too many raisins, died and rotted under a log. It looks just like it sounds, a wooden apple. It even matches my countertop. It has a hard outer shell, and inside looks disgusting, brown and mushy, stringy and seedy. Oh so appealing.
Getting the sucker open was challenge enough. I followed the cashier's instructions- simply smash it down on the counter. No dice. Then I YouTubed it (yes, that's a verb), and a guy hacked one open with a knife. Again I failed. Dug out a chisel and a hammer... nada. Afraid of pissing off my basement dweller any further from all the banging about late at night, I ventured outside, channeled my inner rage, and pummeled the wood apple on the driveway. Tada! That's how you open a freaking Wood Apple. Might as well call it a cement apple.
Sadly, I am not a fan. I held my breath as the odour caused a college-hangover-style dry heave. I sprinkled some sugar on it, said a hopeful prayer for tasty delights, and choked it down. It was a confusing taste... like an apple crisp gone terribly awry, as though someone misread the recipe and added in something that had long decomposed in the back of the fridge.
I did my best. I have higher hopes for the other Spiceland purchases - a banana flower, and something that looks quite like a dried cow pattie. Can't wait...
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