Citizens... Stop sniggering. I see you... looking at the bag of black... wrinkled stones. You think they are for the infirm... for the ancient. You are wrong. The Prune... is the Plum that went to war and survived. It is concentrated power. But it is thirsty. Do not eat it dry... like a savage eating leather. It needs to be revived. The Soak. Make a pot of Earl Grey tea... Strong... Hot. Or better yet... Armagnac... The fire water. Submerge them. Let them drink... Let them swell. Let them remember they were once fruit. Tactic One... The Devil. Devils on Horseback. This is the only cavalry charge you need at a dinner party. Take your soaked prune. Remove the stone... if it still has one. Replace the stone with an almond... or a piece of chutney. Now... The Armour. Streaky Bacon. Smoked. Wrap the prune tight. Pierce it with a cocktail stick... pin the arms to the side. Roast it. High heat. When the fat renders... and the bacon is crisp... and the prune is molten inside... Eat it hot. The salt... The sweet... The crunch. It is a weapon of mass seduction. Tactic Two... The Winter Stew. Sometimes... the mornings are dark. Take the prunes. Put them in a pot with orange juice... a stick of cinnamon... and a Star Anise. Simmer them. Do not boil them to mush... just soften their resolve. Serve them over porridge... or thick Greek yogurt. The syrup will turn black and glossy. It is not just breakfast... it is medicine for the soul. A final word... on utility. The Prune is the sweeper of the system. It keeps the engine of the Empire running clean. But respect the dosage. Three or four is a delight. Ten... is a strategic error. Do not tempt the internal plumbing. Soak them in tea. Wrap them in bacon. Respect the wrinkle. Carry on.
