The Death of 18 Apricots

I could not keep you all. As plump and juicy and ambrosial as you were, I bought far too many of you. And my weekly Wednesday foray to 14th street fast approaches. I hope you know that I do you great honor, though as you were mashed and cooked and churned you may not have felt it.




Your freshness carried over and your final resting place (or penultimate resting place as soon you will descend into my stomach) is nothing short of evocative. My only regret is that I couldn't scoop you as beautifully as you deserved, even though I ran the scoop under hot water.



Thank you as well to David Lebovitz and the Perfect Scoop for reminding me of the importance of that soupcon of almond extract.