This can of breadfruit has been sitting on my desk for nearly a month, and I'm sure it was on a shelf for 20 times longer than that. I haven't exactly been avoiding it; after all, how bad could it be? It's got fruit right in the name, the pictures on the can make it look like a combination of a Granny Smith Apple and a pear, it's got a "Guaranteed A-1 Quality" seal on the front of the label, and a slew of people around the office have tried and enjoyed breadfruit in the past. Granted, each of the people who've tried it groaned once they learned I'd be eating it out of a can. Still, it's with little trepidation that I take the can opener to the top and begin prying open the breadfruit.
Before the can is completely opened, people begin noticing that the label
looks like it was printed on someone's home ink-jet and sloppily pasted
on. I begin to get a little worried as I stop opening the can and take
a closer look at the back of the can. The text is blurry but
comforting. "Quite possibly the best alternate for rice, pasta,
potatoes, or bread." Four foods that are awesome! With my confidence
back in place, I finish opening the can and pry back the top.
Oh crap. My thoughts of a delicious apple-pear combination vanish the
moment I see the chunks of breadfruit floating in water. It looks much
less like a fruit and more like large chunks of jaundiced flesh. Just
before I'm ready to slip out of the office for the night feigning a
migraine, I get a whiff of the contents of the can. It smells like a
pear. The emotional roller coaster is back on an uptick, and I decide to
plunge my fork into the can before anything else could come along to
The breadfruit has the consistency of a baked potato as my fork cuts a
chunk from the top of the can. I raise it to my mouth and pop it in as
quickly as I can. The texture has a baked yam or hearts of palm quality
to it, but the taste is something completely different. It's actually
the lack of a distinguishing taste that horrifies me the most. I'd
spent weeks thinking this was a sugary fruit that I'd be putting into
my regular shopping rotation, but as it oozes across my tongue, I can
only wonder how to make it edible. Perhaps dousing it butter or salt
would do the trick. I swallow the breadfruit and wait for an awful
aftertaste that never comes. Instead, a mild sweetness washes over my
tongue for a few moments. Out of all the foods I've tasted for this
blog thus far (save the Pocky), this has the most pleasant aftertaste.
Don't take too much stock in that statement, though. It's kind of like
saying "That was the best car accident I've ever been in" or "I thought
I'd cut myself way deeper than that."
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