I’ve been on a grape kick this week. We never had grapes around as a kid because my parents wouldn’t buy them. Plight of the migrant workers and all that. I suspect I shouldn’t be buying them either, but I love grapes – they’re like Nature’s candy – cool, sweet, bite sized.
This week my grape of choice has been red and seedless. Red grapes are fuller and sweeter than green, but dustier as well. You have to really rinse them well or they make your tongue feel sort of furry. I dislike that feeling. Usually I chill grapes, but this week I’ve been eating them at room temperature. They’re good either way.
My grandfather, when he was retired and pretending to be a country farmer despite living in the middle of a suburban tract in New Jersey, grew an experimental crop of green grapes one summer when I was very little. I remember this because my dog, a white Poodle blend named Taffy, ate them all.
She got sick from them, I’m certain, but I bet she enjoyed them before that.
(And yes, I know now that grapes are toxic to dogs.)