My fingers were stained pink with juice as I was slicing them and I couldn't resist taking one every now and again and slipping it into my mouth, and my knees would buckle; they are so sweet and ripe and delicious they almost don't need sugar. Or cake. Or whipped cream.
But because I am a believer in moderation in all things only MOST of the time, I have instead divided them into two bowls: In one bowl I sprinkled a tablespoon or so of sugar, and am now letting them sit and revel in it until they are drowning in their own sweet syrupyness. In the other bowl I have tossed them with sugar and balsamic vinegar and a dash of fresh ground pepper, and am waiting to see what happens, as I've heard of this, but never tried it myself.
Then, after the delicious steak that