Monday, February 11, 2008
So, good riddance green peppers, Tamalehawk guesses, right? Having hit the culinary scene, the red brethren deeming green unneeded even in fajitas. Red was ripe for stardom, and quickly made greem seem dated and maybe a little passe. It could bring the full sweet flavor to the party, or stand out in a bed a lettuce. You couldn't make an appealing soup with green. Red could accomplish it all and make a dip at the same time. People everywhere were making the switch fast and permanent, and even its lower price couldn't bring the green bell pepper sympathy.
Tamalehawk is often a creature of comfort, but his restless wings need to swing a wide and regular arc around the outer perimeters of the familiar. He wants to fill this pepper with something strange and roast it, an arranged marriage forged in the heat of another's will and hunger. At the same time, he wants to leave it alone, praise it for the perfection it achieved without an ounce of intervention. The green pepper shouldn't be blamed for its inferiority; it is the perfect idea right on the verge of ripeness.