Had I blindly reached into the bowl of fruit, I could’ve mistaken her for a worn leather baseball. I could barely palm two-thirds of the round, rough and thinning surface; I rolled her onto the counter and drew a knife across her midline. The halves toppled away from each other and a dark stream of ruby juice trickled out, leaving my paring knife to rest in the puddle that was sure to stain my cutting board. I picked up the top half, admiring the inconsistencies in her once vibrant, now dull red exterior slowly fading to pink. My fingers danced across the brown and yellow bruises and dents of her outer shell and I placed her face down in a nearby bowl of cold water. I used my thumb to brush the jewels from their casing and kernel-sized beads were ejected, sinking to the bottom of the bowl, while the paper-thin pulp floated to the surface. It’s a laborious fruit to pursue, the pomegranate. How do you prepare yours? Take my advice: spare your kitchen surfaces from splatters of pomegranate juice dye by extracting the seeds one by one in a bowl of water.