OK, What is This?

My Saturday had been thrown off by the furniture delivery from the craftsman with flaming hands.  I had not expected him but was glad he showed up.  I adjusted my plans.  I was going to visit a teak warehouse on Saturday after the photo shoot to look at some dining chairs.  I had visited their showroom which is right here in my neighborhood and they had suggested I visit their warehouse.  I liked their things so I adjusted my weekend and visited the warehouse on Sunday.  Nagaraj came about 1:00.  He looked at the address and called on their phone to get directions and we headed out.  This is a city of seven million.  Any excursion is an adventure.  I can't describe the traffic.  Well I take that back.  I have tried in earlier posts but doubt I have done it justice.  It's a cacophony of sights and sounds.  I could literally shake hands with people in traffic.  I could reach out and pet the oxen pulling the cart next ot us in traffic.  Here I am an ex-pat, the only occupant in the back seat of a brand new Toyota Corolla, looking out on five people on a motor scooter or two adults and four children and packages stuffed into an auto rick.  There are times when I feel guilty, maybe a little too far above the fray.  I sink down in my seat and pull my hat over my eyes and the feeling goes away.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, we were on airport road.  One stretch was lined with fruit vendors.  There must have been a dozen or more and they were all selling the same thing.  The thing pictured above. 

 "Nagaraj, what is that?" 

 "We will stop on the way back and get some, sir."

We pressed on.  We found the warehouse.  I did see some teak chairs I liked.  I was able to barter the price down about 25% but I am still thinking.  No, it's not my feminine side.

We headed back up airport road to the block of the strange fruit vendors.  Nagaraj slowed down and eyed about a half a dozen of the vendors until he picked one.  He picked the one with the most people around it.  It was run by an old lady.  She had the fruit spread out on a burlap bag on the ground.  There was a lot of conversation in Hindi or Kanada.  Parts of it sounded like an argument.  It went on and on while Nagaraj inpspected much of what she was offering.  She seemed to protest and they finally settled on a bag of about a half dozen for about $0.45. 

Fruit of the cashew tree.  Cashew fruit.  I did not know that.  Nagaraj tried to explain where the actual nut fit in this picture but I didn't quite get it.  We each ate one.  They have a very unusual taste; a little sour and somewhat acidy.  I felt like somewhere in the background of the taste was a cashew nut.  If you have ever eaten a pecan that isn't ripe you have felt that strong astringent sensation in your mouth.  There was a sensation that reminded me of a green nut like that and it made my throat sort of burn but not exactly in a bad way.  The texture was somewhat like a very juicy apple.  The next morning my housekeeper, Silvia, cut one up in my oatmeal.  It was a more pleasing experience served in this way.  Who knew?