I fell for lychee (and its martini)

At H Mart, tropical fruits lined the produce aisles like shiny, bespoke jewels. Sun-warmed papaya, halved and neatly wrapped in plastic, beckoned to be eaten. Ripe pineapple and candy-sweet mangoes adorned store shelves, their aroma intoxicating. And bright pink pataya were wrapped in foam nets, as if to contain their flame-like green, leafy tips.

My heart, however, yearned for lychees.

I don’t remember many specifics about the very first time I tried a lychee, but what I do recall is that it was love at first bite. There’s something rather whimsical about eating the oblong fruit. First, one must peel back its leathery skin, which, when ripe, is a beautiful shade of pinkish-red, sometimes with faint streaks of gold or light green. Inside is the lychee fruit. Its translucent-white flesh —