Last year I posted about this exotic fruit. I'm not sure how they got into my house that time, but I tasted some and told Rosario, the boss of our kitchen, that enjoyed them.

I have to be careful when I indicate a preference for some food. Whenever I say I like something, Rosario inundates me with it.

I enjoy Ciruelas Amarillas, their intense, unusual flavor. A couple of them now and then make a welcome accent in a selection of more ordinary fruits. But this bowl full of them is a little daunting. How am I gonna eat them all?

They will never be in the mainstream; not in the way Kiwi fruit evolved from a novelty to something found on every caterer's platter. The flesh is minimal, the skin is tough and the fruit is almost all pit.

Rosario wants nothing more than to please El Señor. That would be me. She proudly showed me her bowl of Ciruellas Amarillas, her shoulders back, an expectant smile on her face.

There's nothing for it but to gobble them up and smack my lips, gratifying Rosario and ensuring I'll get even more of them next week.