The re-graping of the raisin

I feel like I'm burning out. All week I've eaten breakfast and lunch that's been ordered, by me, for a four-day training session at work. Even though it's relatively healthy food, I just don't feel like myself at all. One or two meals a week prepared outside of a home is about all I can handle before I just stop thinking properly. Enough already with the sugary dainties and oily muffins and salads that overdo the sweet/savoury mix!

Raisins. They have a place, but maybe not in a salad. Would you wrap a raisin in a spinach leaf? Drizzle a little vinegar over it and pop it in your mouth? Okay, I might. It's when the raisin starts to take on characteristics of its former self that I struggle. The first time I had a conversation with Q, I asked him about his opinion on the cooked raisin. I had a hunch that he was the kind of person who would really sink his teeth into this, and I was not disappointed. We were at a party with our significant others and two friends. He was quite enthusiastic about the idea, but I stuck with my argument that so long as the raisin maintains its raisin-ness nature - dried fruit, essentially - then mixing is okay; but, in something like a muffin, where it becomes fat and juicy? Well, as Type A says, if I want a fat and juicy raisin, I'll just eat a grape, thank you.

Q and I debated the issue for some time before taking it to the rest of the party in the form of a poll, the question being 'Cinnamon bun: with or without raisins?'. The results were about 2:1 without (I say 'about' because B, as always, claimed to enjoy both, but had more of an inclination towards without). This really didn't surprise me, but Q seemed genuinely taken aback. It was one of the funniest conversations I've ever had.