The pear blooms are very nice. These weak city trees have been ravaged by successive storms, the odd tornado, a freak snowfall (or two), and that Sandy. When the branches don't tear off and drop on you and your car they are very pretty. The blossoms have been open for two days. Poof! It happened all at once.
But to the green almonds: What is wrong with me? (Don't all answer at once...)
For one thing, there is my increasing lack of tolerance for poor service and bad manners. Even after eyeing these green almonds in Sahadi's I left, unserved by the five indolent men who were doing nothing, behind the nut and grains counter, lolling in the olive aisle and scratching themselves near the spice shelves. For once there was no crowd, and they were shellshocked by the amount of leisure afforded them.
The point is - I have never bought green almonds. I have never even been deeply curious about them. Until now. I don't know why. I suppose it was just time. So I have been asking around. Bonbon hooked me up with a Claudia Roden-derived recipe for lamb, fava beans and almonds. Stacey sicced me on David Lebowitz and the intel that Parisians nibble green almonds with drinks. That's a good start.
Do you have any green almond experience or advice? I think especially of Turks, Syrians ...Syria: I should not have brought it up. Iranians?
Why do I think of almond blossom and Kashmir?
There are places I have not seen, and want to. Kashmir is one. I need to see Russia, having inhabited so much of its literature. I'd like to stay in a dacha in a birch wood. Norway. I'd really like to summer on an island in a fjord. Finland and cloud berries. A man in a store yesterday told me that I was Scandinavian and that if he cut me I would not bleed. I demurred. The clerk called security.
I'd like to have seen Syria. Very much. And the mountains of Iran.