After letting our dog dumpling hang out in the fruit bowl for a couple of days, the time was ripe, literally, to get rid of the Morinda fruit, which the kind vendor had given me at the feria on Saturday. As a Scientist i.R. (im Ruhestand = retired), I first had to look inside, of course. Wouldn’t you have done the same?
|View West from casita|
Since everyone wrinkled their noses at the mere mention of the word ‘noni’, as the Morinda fruit is called here, I decided to execute the dissection of this specimen under an exhaust hood – so to speak. I set up my lab on the tiled counter top of the small outdoor kitchen behind our guest casita. It faces NW, away from the house. There’s a strong breeze coming down the fog shrouded mountain tops, acting as my ventilation system. And when you take just a couple of steps past this ‘breakfast bar’ and a border hedge, there’s a drop of 160 ft/50 meters or more down to the creek at the bottom of the gorge. At least the cadastral planes indicate a river as part of our property line. However the tropical moisture supports such a dense jungle down there, not to mention the fer-de-lance pit vipers and poisonous ‘sapo’ toads, that no-one has ever ventured, machete swinging, to the bottom of our gorge, to verify the existence of this river. But I can clearly hear it’s rushing and gushing whitewater, specially during the rainy season.
Since Saturday, the Morinda tree fruit had ripened to a glossy, almost translucent plumpness. It was high time to hurl this vomit fruit into the abyss! (pun intended)
Using my extra sharp deboning knife, I halved the fruit with one decisive motion – quickly stepping back to avoid a possible release of foul odors. As it turned out, one actually had to bend toward the cut surface to detect a mild Tilsit aroma. Anticlimax! Ah well.
After studying the composite fruit organisation for a little bit, I speared each half with the knife and tossed it in the general direction of serpents and sapos, while my little dragon watched the proceedings with curiosity.
When I inhale deeply, I can still smell the faint odor of cheese in the air. My amygdala must be fond of Tilsit …