Pineapple tarts always bring thoughts of the Lunar New Year. My grandmother isolated herself in the kitchen to bake them. With its crisp, golden crust and grandma’s tangy, heartfelt pineapple filling, they were at the apex of everyone’s snack mountain (and I do mean mountain).
I think we cherished these sweet-savory snack delights because they tasted out of the universe and some, for one. For another, they were one of her cooking passions, and it showed. It was a pity that they were seasonal delights—grandma only baked them when the new year rolled around.
We can still enjoy them, though, and these verses are in their honour.
Yellow
Golden
Mound
Atop fertile soil of crust
Gold
Breaks down
Burst of sweetness
Tongue cries
Crust crackles
Sound music
To ears raring to hear
Explodes with
A scissors bite
Taste to behold
Tasteful delight.
The Getting Literal Writing Alcove 