So, remember when I told you about the incident of fiscal irresponsibility that led us to bring home a monstera deliciosa, a fruit that looks like it would kill you rather than let you eat it? Were you wondering how that bizarre little scenario shook out?
As you may recall, the key to the monstera is to let it peel itself. In its jar it sat, dropping its little scales everywhere until we set the jar in a spare dog dish to catch them. At times we kept it on the counter, and other times in the fridge, depending on my mood and how concerned I was that it was ripening too quickly. Whenever we opened the fridge, we were treated to a whiff of tropical fruit, which was rather nice, although a reminder that we would eventually have to eat this science experiment. It took probably about a week for all the scales to fall off, although we learned via the internet that we probably should have been eating it piecemeal instead of waiting for the whole thing to denude itself. As you can see, it got a little brown in places.
Oh, well, live and learn. Once we decided it was time to eat this beast, we had to figure out how best to go about doing that. Should I use a knife to slice the kernels off, a la corn on the cob? Pluck them off one by one, a process that was sure to hold my interest for about half a minute? I tried the latter, and resorted to using my index finger to dislodge the kernels from the core. This was a messy process that left sticky stuff all over my hand, including bits of a substance that was kinda brownish. At this point, I’m sure you’re doubting my sanity, but let me remind you that this mother cost $7, and Red and I were going to eat every last sugary little nubbin of it.
After minimal slimy drama, we had a bowl of monstera kernels sitting on the counter. They looked like corn kernels, only paler and a slightly bigger. There was only one thing to do: get a spoon and dig in.
We were told to expect a flavor reminiscent of pineapple and banana. I would agree, if one is accustomed to pineapple and banana as formulated by Bubblicious. The monstera was sweet almost to a fault, even for Red, who never met a sweet thing he didn’t love. I kept feeling like I should try to blow bubbles with my mouthfuls of monstera kernels, and afraid that should I swallow them, they would lurk in my gut for seven-plus years.
Between us, over the course of a few days, we managed to eat all of the monstera. A little monstera goes a long way, so we spaced out our noshing sessions, getting quick hits of sugary fruit. In summary, we won the battle, but I don’t think we’ll be gunning for a rematch anytime soon.