Pommes away.

I was boiling water at work once (because drinking hot water all day is the only way I stay warm in chilly offices without over-caffeinating or having to brew something every hour), and since the watched pot wasn't boiling, I turned my attention to boxes of tea bags stocked by the kettle. Reading the French label for "pomegranate," I noticed the translation was "pomme-grenade." If you've ever tried to cut open a pomegranate and extract the juicy jewels, you'll know why.

Here's what Wikipedia has to say on etymology:

The name pomegranate derives from medieval Latin pōmum "apple" and grānātum "seeded." Perhaps stemming from the old French word for the fruit, pomme-grenade, the pomegranate was known in early English as "apple of Grenada"—a term which today survives only in heraldic blazons. This is a folk etymology, confusing Latin granatus with the name of the Spanish city of Granada, which derives from Arabic.

Garnet derives from Old French grenat by metathesis, from Medieval Latin granatum as used in a different meaning "of a dark red color." This derivation may have originated from pomum granatum describing the color of pomegranate pulp or from granum referring to "red dye, cochineal."

The French term grenade for pomegranate has given its name to the military grenade.

The last sentence tells you everything you need to know before trying this at home - the military named a weapon after the fruit (and not the other way around). Pomegranates are a delicious winter fruit, but it can be tricky business to get the tiny seeds out without scattering them everywhere. I've given at least one white shirt to the cause, but over time I've learned a few tricks. Fear not!

• Give yourself at least 15 minutes for the first attempt
• Get a giant bowl in which to open the fruit and empty the seeds - the bigger it is, the more rogue seeds you'll catch as they fly away
• Start by slicing it in half with a sharp knife - you'll cleave a few seeds in half, but that'll get you started
• You'll see pale yellow, papery membranes separating clumps of seeds from each other - gently peel these back and crack the halves open at these lines
• Some people suggest using the back of a wooden spoon or other dull implement to coax the fruit out, but I found that approach to crush the seeds and still send them flying
• Using a gentle-but-firm thumb pressure, pull the seeds off as though they were a single sheet being peeled off - you'll see what I mean (almost the same motion as when you're biting corn off the cob)
• Crack open a new section and continue

By the end you'll probably be disappointed by the amount of work that went in to yield maybe a cup and a half of seeds if you're lucky, but they're extremely tart and juicy, so a small amount goes a long way in yogurt, sprinkled over salads, or just munched by the spoonful.