Hubby bought me a lovely book for Christmas, one that I mentioned a long time ago at this post about domestic porn – no, not that kind, the Martha Stewart, perfect house kind. The post (way back in October 2007) was inspired by a UK article that dissed on Jane Brockett’s book, The Gentle Art of Domesticity. Long story short, that’s the book that hubby purchased for Christmas.
Whew, way off track, sorry. Guess I can’t see the road for all the snow we just received last night. Blizzard Redux.
Ok, so I have the book and I’m enjoying it. Ms. Brockett writes about her inspiration and one small section deals with pineapples. She even quotes one of my all-time favorite songs, which just so happens to speak of pineapples – “It Couldn’t Please Me More” from Cabaret. If you don’t know it, here is a lovely version set to SpongeBob:
(Where else can you find cartoons singing Broadway tunes, huh?)
The whole pineapple fascination just happened to sync with my own longing for pineapples. In crochet, I love pineapple lace and I hope to make some in 2009. Here’s a look at it:We’ve already talked about my pineapple upside down cake mishap on New Year’s Eve. I’ve also been adding a bit of country primitives to my home and the pineapple is a featured symbol of hospitality and home. I’m not sure how a fruit from the tropics took on that role for colonial America, but there you go. Perhaps because offering such a rare fruit to your guests would be the height of sharing.
Fruitily inspired, on New Year’s Day I bought a pineapple. Not in the can, a fresh pineapple, pokey leaves and tough skin and all. And like Fraulein Schneider, I have it on the counter looking at it, a bit timid to actually crack it open and eat it. Today might be the day that I slice into the New Year Pineapple (now to join the ranks of Christmas Tree, Yule Log and Santa Claus for Holiday symbols). Purchased on the first day of 2009, the pineapple will fill my new year with sweetness and sunshine…and possibly gas. But that is a small price to pay for a taste of Hawaii on a bleak cold day in January. Grilled fresh pineapple with a view of snowflakes couldn’t please me more.