This pomegranate looks fresh, but it’s actually a week or two old; perhaps wrenched from the tree by the wind that often grows stronger for a while in the baking afternoon.
The surface is dried and hard and we collected it after it had fallen; split open to reveal its rose-coloured pearls – a fruit equivalent of a sturgeon’s roe.
Anyone who knows London’s West End – with its myriad Chinese restaurants – may compare it to the food displayed in some windows; plastic, shiny versions of the real food on offer.
The pips, spinkled into a cold glass of Cava, are a treat.
© con jamón spain