I first bought a granada china -- literally, a "chinese pomegranate" -- a few months after moving to Mexico. I had no idea what it was (I'd been suckered by a tianguis vendor, oh naive extranjera that I was), and so I asked my Mexican landlady. She said it contained a mucous-like sack of seeds. You cut the fruit in half and suck them out with your tongue. The mucous idea scared me. The china slowly rotted in the fridge, and I never bought one again. In India, we ate passion fruit right off the tree. The granada china bears a striking resemblance to passion fruit -- actually, they're related -- and so at the tianguis a few weekends ago, I confidently asked for "dos maracuyá." A man behind the table laughed. "That's not a maracuyá," he said. "It's a granada china." I bought a few anyway. Came back, sliced them in half -- they opened with a satisfying crack -- and dug into the gelatinous center with a spoon. It tasted similar to a passion fruit, but a little more musty -- sweet, but without the bright, lemony, mangoey notes you sometimes get with passion fruit. Eating it was so much fun. I used a wee spoon, and scooped out the soggy flesh from each half. We still have some Leblon Cachaça left, so when I feel better, hubby and I must try granada china caipirinhas on the patio.