A very brief note on Pomegranates

Pomegranates instantly remind me of two things: Persephone (the Greek goddess of the underworld) and martinis.

As a kid, I was obsessed with D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, and the story of Demeter and Persephone was one of the first that made me fall in love with mythology.

TL;DR: Persephone, daughter of Demeter (goddess of the harvest), is kidnapped by Hades and taken to the underworld. In her grief, Demeter lets the world’s crops die. Eventually, Persephone is allowed to return to Earth—but because Hades tricked her into eating a few pomegranate seeds, she’s bound to the underworld forever. As a result, she spends half the year with her mother and the other half with Hades. When she’s gone, Demeter mourns, and the Earth turns barren. When she returns, life blooms again.

The myth explains the seasons, but it also carries so much meaning. As a child, I was struck by the idea that a mother’s grief could be so profound that the entire world felt it.

Now, what does this have to do with martinis? Well.

Growing up, I loved being in the kitchen so much that I insisted on making my parents martinis on the weekends. I’d serve them drinks out on the deck while they relaxed. In hindsight, I probably just wanted them out of the kitchen so I could have it to myself. Questionable behavior? Perhaps. I’ll let my therapist unpack that one.

Now, you may be wondering: What kind of martini does a child make? Great question. A very pretty (and probably very bad) one. My recipe? Straight vodka (Absolut or Grey Goose), a dash of pomegranate juice—because I loved the color—and maybe a mini umbrella or fruit slice for flair. I never once thought to taste them. It wasn’t about the booze; it was about the ritual, the aesthetics, and, let’s be honest, the tiny umbrellas.

And that, my friends, is why pomegranates will always remind me of both Greek mythology and my very questionable stint as a child bartender.