One of the tastiest things I've ever nibbled on was a tiny pineapple, carved for me by a nice lady near a beach somewhere on Easter Island. The day was hot; the fruit was cold and sweet, its miniature leaves pulled back and held like a popsicle stick. There were, in fact, two ladies on the beach (sisters, I was told) operating identical, competing baby-pineapple stands in an otherwise utterly deserted corner of this most remote Pacific island. Under an unrelenting sun, I ate my fruit and stared in slack-jawed wonderment at the ancient moai. The famous stone heads stared impassively back at me, perched at the edge of the vast, endless sea. Everything was amazing. Because taste has as much to do with where you are as what you're eating. Context is everything.