Blackout

I had a private moment with a cup of blackberries this morning (no, not the cellular devices you overworked vassals, come on). I'm well aware that most of my dining experiences are quite singular, if not almost always alone but nevertheless, these blackberries were able to coax every last drop of my attention into a sensory hypnosis worth sharing with you in this recently recovered consciousness. Feeling not-so-awesome and in a just-coming-down-with-something funk, I meticulously arranged a quaint breakfast of Greek yogurt with a hint of honey, a small cup of maple-pecan granola and an equal amount of fresh blackberries for a light but nutritious little brekkie. Please take special note that if you've not indulged in Trader Joe's brand, individual yogurt cups, particularly the nonfat, honey-flavored ones, you're missing out on a large amount of potential pleasure the universe had in store for you (+ for those of you who are beginning to find this blog to be no small advertisement for TJ's - you'll get used to it. I work there, I love it and they've got great food). But back to the blackberries . . .

Although blackberries are usually picked in high-season summer months (think May, June, July) throughout the northwestern United States, several varieties that land on our kitchen tables, hearken from similarly ideal climates in the United Kingdom, Chile, New Zealand and a few Mediterranean countries. The little gems I had the pleasure of crunching into traveled all the way from Mexico and were perfectly ripe, boasting seductively deep obsidian and purple facets of deliciousness. Crunching into each morsel provided a special moment for meditation for aside from raspberries, which possess a similar but not as satisfyingly tight anatomy, blackberries have infinite pockets of shiny, taut skin that when pierced, burst into tiny doses of perfectly balanced flavor. My teeth took great joy in crushing down upon each berry, stomping the tart liquid into sweet oblivion and washing the juice throughout my palate, picking up remnants of oats and pecan and finally whisking away a hint of creamy yogurt quietly lingering in the wings. Having amassed a veritable antioxidant stockpile for a grueling morning of battle against the evil forces of germdom, I sank low into my 1000 thread-count, cotton barracks to reflect in quiet reverie upon the many wonders of such a simple task as eating. Taking care of course, to pick the very seeds of wisdom from in between my teeth.