Pistachios

Pistachios. I have a jar of pistachios in front of me right now. The green ones - I never really liked the red ones all that well. Why are there red ones and green ones? The green ones are the natural color. According to the California Pistachio Commission's website, the red color was used to draw attention to the delicious nutmeats and to disguise blemishes produced from harvesting. From the information the site provides, the nuts must be hulled and dried within a day, otherwise, the shell will be stained. However, modern processing techniques prevent such problems. According to these Nut-mongers, the small percentage of red nuts (at least from California) are dyed not by necessity, but to appease customer preference. They must be referring to someone else.

Since, according to the California nut folks, pistachios originated in the middle east and were purportedly a favorite delicacy for the Queen of Sheba, it is not surprising that many middle eastern nations still produce these nutritious nuts commercially. And, while California does a good job promoting our domestic munchable, the foreign produce is often top-drawer. In fact, one site maintains that a Greek variety of pistachio, Aegina, is considered one of the best varieties in the world.

Pistachios and its relatives appear to also have benefits outside of making me fat. Looking at the Wikipedia entry, I find that the pistachio tree is related to plants used to produce both varnish and turpentine. I won't get fat on that! I also find that at least one enterprising soul has made a drinking game involving everyone's favorite party snack. The inimitable Martha Stewart used pistachios for decorating, perhaps more in line with her Gothic tastes. Maybe she was influenced by the swankSeeds of the Bible display available online.

Moving further in the realm of "I can't eat it" is Mitsubishi's experiment in urban transportation. Of course, this car is found in Japan, so perhaps Godzilla will find tasty nut-meats inside once he peels away that troublesome shell. The ensuing imagery would form a nice basis for a sequel to William Trowbridge's Complete Book of Kong: Poems, an imaginative work in and of itself. I had the pleasure to hear Trowbridge reading from the book, and it seems that there is a poem or two that mentions Godzilla. Something about Kong running into the big lizard in the Universal Studios cafeteria. So I end with Godzilla in a studio cafeteria talking to Kong as he considers the bag of pistachios in front of him; priced at a buck, crunchy, salty, and in his native green color.