Venezuelans are BIG on natural fruit juice. There is not one restaurant that I have been to that doesn’t offer an assortment of freshly squeezed juices. I’ve been open to trying all kinds and have discovered fruit that I don’t think should be made into juice (e.g. grapes, tamarind) and those that I love.

This, my friends, is my favorite juice. The fruit it comes from is called parcha here in Venezuela (and I assume most of Latin America). Apparently, it’s in the same family as passion fruit, also known as parchita.

In Haiti parcha is called grenadine. I know in English grenadine refers to a totally different fruit, but that’s what I’ve been calling it since I was a wee young lass; hence the bizarre title of this post

Yes, those are seeds floating at the top. You can remove them or swallow them whole – it takes some getting used to. They are coated with the fleshy substance of the fruit and they are very much like watermelon seeds, so you don’t want to chew on them.

I can’t really tell you what other fruit that it tastes like because its flavor is unique to me. It has a mild, nutty sweetness and as you can see a thick consistency. It is so viscous that I sometimes drink it as a mid-morning snack. If you’re not into heavy juices, you can always run it through a sieve before drinking it.

All in all, good stuff!

This is a conversation that I had with my 7 year-old the other day.

Me: You have to eat your breakfast quickly this morning because we’re going out.

Daughter: Where are we going?

Me: We’re taking your brother to the doctor.

Daughter: Why?

Me: Because his eye is swollen.

After about two minutes…

Daughter: I remember one time in Florida my eye was swollen and you didn’t take me to the doctor.

Me: I don’t remember that.

Daughter: Yes, and remember you gave me ice to put on it.

Me: *Remembering* Oh yeah, now I remember.

Daughter: Well, I didn’t get to go to the doctor, how come he gets to go?

At this point, I’m feeling torn between how a Haitian mom would handle this and how an American mom would handle this. I know that my mother would have stopped me somewhere after she asked me why we were taking him to the doctor and when I brought up my swollen eye incident. She would’ve given me this look of “You’re being disrespectful.” And if I had the misfortune of not picking up on the first cue, she would’ve scolded me in a way that felt worse than being sent to my room.

I assume the American mom would tell her that she was just as special/important as her brother and the next time she had a swollen eye, we would definitely take her to the doctor. I, quite frankly, am irritated by my daughter’s reasoning. At almost seven years-old, I think she should be comfortable in her position as older sister and no longer feel threatened by the new kid in the house. I have to remind myself that she is a VERY sensitive child and her reasoning is often dictated by her emotions.

Me: You had a swollen eye for one night that went away with ice. He has had swelling for two days now. We are not discussing this anymore, now hurry up and finish your breakfast so you don’t make us late.

I’d like to think I have compromised between the two cultures