Raisins are such delicious little things. They’re like tiny shots of amazing flavor and sweetness. Especially the ones my dad sent along with me when I left home. Oh man, are they good. The Princess grapes they’re made from were vine ripened to the point of almost Muscat sweetness, their skins mellowed to a beautiful translucent yellow. The personal attention during the drying process at home was careful and selective. End product: soft, juicy raisins the size of an almond whose flavor is unequaled in the world of raisindom.
Apparently, I am not the only one to hold a high opinion of raisins either. We ran into our portera the other day coming into the building, and she held nothing in her hand but a bag of raisins that she had just bought at the supermarket. So what was the topic of our friendly small talk? Raisins of course! We bonded over our mutual love of those tasty little things, praising their health benefits and downright delightfulness. She shared a few of her muscatel beauties with us, telling us exactly where we could purchase them, and once I got into our apartment, I ran and grabbed my bag of homemade wonders to share some with her. She remarked on their admirable size and flavor, declaring that they were indeed delicious (although I hardly needed any confirmation on that point).
I realized though when I was sharing with our portera that my bag of Princess lovelies is running rather low. They’re amazingly delicious, so I don’t want to stop eating them, but the end will be coming soon…so I want to ration them to prolong the treat…but they’re delicious, so I don’t want to stop eating them…I guess I’ll be visiting our portera’s raisin spot before long.