What’s in a Pomegranate? More than Seeds!

I love a good pomegranate and will take it any way I find it.

In a fruit salad, juice, salad dressing, vinegar, or straight from the membrane itself. Peel and eat but be careful: It could leave you with an indelible stain on your sweater. I suggest you wear red.

By now, you may think of me as a pomegranate junkie—and you’re right! I can’t get through my edible, digestive week without some consumption. The fact it’s the official fruit of Armenia carries some loyalty.

It all started as a youngster. My immigrant grandmother taught me the benefits of pomegranate. According to this sage, the fruit had medicinal values. It kept you healthy and was used to ward off evil spirits.

If you kept a pomegranate in your home, it would lend itself to a cache of benefits. I grew up on pomegranate. The seeds were inadvertently splattered throughout the kitchen floor and made a crunching sound as you stepped on them.

Like I said, the pomegranate is one of the main fruits of Armenian culture (the others being apricots and grapes.) Its juice is famous in food and heritage.

As the unequivocal symbol of our country, it represents fertility, abundance, and marriage. The fruit plays an integral role as an old wedding custom. If a bride was given a pomegranate, she would throw it against the wall, breaking it into pieces. Good thing this wasn’t a mirror.

Now here’s the myth. Scattered pomegranate seeds ensured the bride future children. Married couples made it a point to put the fruit by their bedside the first honeymoon night to ensure happiness. No doubt, this was before they had their fill of pomegranate wine.

By the way, I did catch the 1968 film, “The Color of Pomegranate,” directed by Sergei Parajanov. It’s the biography of folk singer Sayat Nova, who was quite poetic with his music. No doubt, this wandering minstrel ate pomegranate regularly and lived into his 80s.

Take it for what it’s worth. My mother lived to be nearly 100 by indulging in the fruit. My grandmother was well into her 90s. Maybe I, too, shall enjoy such longevity.

My appetite has extended to include pomegranate cocktails (gin or vodka), smoothies, yogurt, cake, and meal garnishes.

A while back when I made my second trip to Armenia, I owed my wife an anniversary gift. Her wish was my command.

“Bring me back a pomegranate,” she requested.

“You mean the actual fruit?” I wondered, somewhat puzzled.

“A necklace,” she revealed. “A pomegranate on a chain. A small one as opposed to big.”

A simple request, no doubt? Wrong!

I must have gone through six specialty shops before I found a small pomegranate pendant. The chain came separately.

Her eyes sparkled when I presented her the token. It wasn’t expensive but the thought outweighed the value. Not my initiative, but hers.

I must admit, every time she wears it, she’s in a joyful mood, free of discomfort, and it’s an eye-catcher. Others want to buy the same thing or have husbands splurge a little for them.

I’ve come to know that our friend, the pomegranate, is known in early English as the “apple of Grenada,” even though it stems from the French (no pun intended). It also has classical Latin connotations.

How about this? If you can’t have the real thing, why not a painting, illustration, or photograph? I snapped a picture of a tourist by the pomegranate tree one year and it holds a very treasured spot in my collection. It doesn’t come close to a prominent painting by 19^th-century artist William Adolphe Bouguereau titled “Girl with a Pomegranate,” but you can convince me otherwise. My subject is more true to life.

In some artistic depictions, the pomegranate is found in the hand of Mary, Mother of Jesus.

An Iranian suggested I try a bowl of “ash-e-nar,” a Persian soup made of pomegranate juice. Just when I thought that drew the line, I found the recipe and asked to have it made. Might I say, it was delightful.

May I also mention the fruit stops nose bleeds, firms up sagging muscles, and treats hemorrhoids. As an eye drop, it is believed to slow the development of cataracts.

Say what you want about an apple a day keeping a doctor away or the banana, often called the perfect fruit. For my pleasure, I’ll stick with the unprecedented pomegranate.

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Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian is a retired journalist with the Haverhill Gazette, where he spent 40 years as an award-winning writer and photographer. He has volunteered his services for the past 46 years as a columnist and correspondent with the Armenian Weekly, where his pet project was the publication of a special issue of the AYF Olympics each September.

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