Grilled Pineapple and Summer Rain
There’s a perfect summer thunderstorm brewing outside. Mmmm… lightning, thunder, and the clean smell of grass.
I’m thrilled to have arrived in my new space. It happens to be Memorial Day 2006. I missed the planting of the poppies, the PBS concert, and the Parade, but I did have a restful weekend that involved languid summer evenings on breezy Pennsylvania porches with new friends–and grilled pineapple, mushroom, pepper, and onion skewers.
Have you ever tasted grilled pineapple? My first time was at the City Bakery. My taste buds suddenly found themselves at a surprise party! Sweet and tart, smoky and juicy, all at the same time. Yum.
Since then, I’ve grilled pineapple at home whenever possible, even on my George Foreman grill. Grilled pineapple is not something I ate during my childhood in Ghana, but still, whenever I eat it, I’m reminded of …
- the fruit lady who arrived at our doorstep on hot mornings with a basket of pineapple on her head and a wide smile on her face
- the thirst of sweaty afternoons quenched with circular slices that Mom brought out on the verandah in white Corningware plates
- the painting of the fruit lady that Papa gave me for Christmas during my freshman year of college. he bought it in Ghana and carried it back, frame and all, on the now-defunct Ghana airways. It now hangs on my kitchen wall and reminds me of the pleasures of pineapple, plantain, and papaya ..
