So there’s this thing called synasthesia. It’s not a disease but rather a condition in which a person associates traits of one sense with traits of another. My sister, for example, sees the word “four” as yellow. She says my name is green and her own is pink. I named my first car Charlotte in part because my sister said it was a blue name and the car was blue. She sees a series of colors for each song she plays on the violin. As for myself, I wouldn’t say that I have synasthesia – perhaps something more like synasthestic tendancies.
For instance, I think cobalt blue tastes like a spoon. Not just the color of cobalt blue but also the sound of the word itself.
Autumn, I have decided, tastes like a just-ripe pair and walnuts. Let me propose the simplest tastes-like-fall recipe on the planet.
First, purchase a pear – I’m not entirely sure what variety. Mine was green but not shiny, perhaps a not-very-ripe Bocsh pear. Next, purchase some walnuts. Fresh from a tree would be preferable. I bought both of these foods at the twisty market in Beregszasz, but that is obviously only possible for those of us who live in Beregszasz.
Next, slice the pair. This, I suppose, is optional, but I find I waste less when I’m not eating around a core.
Fourth, take a bite of the pair. Don’t chew. Pop a walnut in your mouth. Now chew. Repeat as necessary.
Fall in a nutshell. Or out of one.