I was a latecomer to grapefruit. (Though, as evidenced in the cooking with kids episode on our podcast Burnt Toast, I came late to everything food-wise—if it wasn’t peanut butter and jelly.)
I found the citrus fruit bitter and astringent, and I wasn’t allowed to blizzard sugar over its top. And even though I thought the spoon with the sawtooth edges was pretty special, mine always seemed dull, ineffective, and half-assed. Who wants to fight with breakfast?
I didn’t find out the solution to my problem until much later, when I’d become well-acquainted to cocktails. (I came early to gin, by which I mean promptly at the age of 21.) Here’s the learning: Don’t eat grapefruit for breakfast. Juice it and put it in your drink.
All of that sharp acidity belongs in a cocktail, reminding it to sit up straight: shoulders back, chest out, chin angled 45 degrees down and a half turn to the side. (We all have to show the world our best face—in this, we are no different from our drinks.) With a pour of gin in a Greyhound, it has even better posture, and sits taller still if you rim your glass in salt. (Call that one a Salty Dog when you serve it—and serve it often.)
I have a thing for most foods topped with a fried egg, a strange disdain for overly soupy tomato sauce, and I can never make it home without ripping off the end of a newly-bought baguette. I like spoons very much.