Every year about this time, the wild, high-climbing grape vine in the backyard makes a lot of big, black grapes that the lazy local wildlife can’t be bothered to eat.
I can’t say that I blame them. It is far too hot and humid to want to climb trees in search of grapes that, while they have a sweet pulp, have some of the thickest, most astringent peel known in all of grapedom.
The result is that most of this viniferous abundance just drops off the vines and collects on the pavement. The car, on the rare occasions we drive anywhere, just makes what I call “driveway jam.”
Poke, poke, poke. Even if I can reach them now, I don’t really want to eat them, but there has to be something useful to do with them.
If the human female had a package of black table grapes in the cooling box, I’d sneak some of these wild ones in among them, just to watch her face.
Hmm. Maybe I can make her a puckery little surprise and leave it in the freezer…