Jeanne bought me this book about a year ago from one of our local Op-Shops (like St. Vinnies) and I have just begun to read it for the second time. I am again caught up, thanks to Adam Gollner, in the wonder and excitement of travelling the world to find and try new and exotic fruits. My initial reaction to his chronicle was one of envy because I'd be thrilled to have done what he has done. But then, I sat back and thought about it. I have had wonderful adventures myself, and of just the same sort of fruit-hunting kind that he has written about. They started out when I was just a kid, but have accelerated here in New Zealand of course. I have had more than most people probably have, even many Kiwis, because I actively search out whatever I can. I mentioned recently to a bus friend that I had just tried a fresh durian and he said, "Huh, a what?" He doesn't shop at Asian markets I guess. And I would bet that not one person in a thousand ( or 10,000?) here would know what a Butia capitata tree is.
I think back...
My earliest experience (age 7) with the discovery of 'exotic' fruits was when I travelled to New York with my uncle, aunt and cousins, and discovered that they had a pear tree in their back yard. I remember being astounded.
Back home again, every once in a while, Mom would surprise us with a coconut. Since Dad was usually busy correcting homework or selling World Book Encyclopedias, it usually fell to me to head up the process of opening the thing. Our method was to pound a nail through each of the three 'eyes,' in turn and pull it out again, creating channels to drain the water, and then bash the shell with a hammer until we broke it open.
Much later, when Jeanne and I toured Europe on our honeymoon, we discovered oranges, and pomegranates on trees in city parks of Madrid and Barcelona (had to snitch just one) and some tiny, not yet ripe bananas (left those alone) near the Mediterranean shore in the resort town of Torremolinos. I was beside myself with the wonder of it.
In 2000, Jeanne and I took four of her Spanish II students to Madrid for a week. One of the first things we did after arriving was to take them on a walk through the Real Jardin Botanico. Shortly after we passed a grove of orange trees loaded with fruit, both the boys suddenly disappeared. When they came back moments later, they were grinning sheepishly and had suspiciously bulging jacket pockets. I understood completely. I asked if they had an extra one for me.
Each year, back when we owned land in Gourley Township, starting in late summer and extending in to the fall, I would go on many fruit expeditions. I thought of it as travelling in time, more than in space, because my destination was just five miles from my home, on 'Miller's forty,' and the objects of my quests were the heirloom apples that made up the apple orchard out there. There were at least a dozen different varieties ranging from early, transparent 'sugar apples' to very late ripening bright red types. They were very old trees. They must have been planted back in the 1930's or 40's, hence my claim to have time-travelled. I enjoyed them all.
I had a sampling method that would only work when I was alone, for aesthetic reasons. (I must have developed it after watching professional coffee tasters work.) I would select an apple and take a bite. I'd chew it, and as I did so, separate, and swallow the juice from the pulp. I'd then spit out the pulp. I'd repeat the process with as many apples, and with as many varieties as I desired on any given day. With my method, I could enjoy juice of every description without having actually consumed what might amount to a bag or more of apples. I'm sure my stomach applauded my thoughtfulness. I would keep track of how the ripening of each variety was progressing.
I think it must have been during one of these apple tasting escapades of mine that I decided that the official beverage of my November deer hunting seasons would be hot apple juice. To this day if I want to feel nostalgic, all I have to do is to heat a mug of apple juice and I'm transported back to my blind. Talk about time-travel. And just a note here. If any of you are tea drinkers and want to try it a new way, try making either black or green tea with apple juice instead of water. I drank gallons of it over the years as I watched in the cold.
In 2010, when I retired from full-time work I spent several summer days picking choke-cherries along River Road and Seven-Mile Marsh Road. Some of you may not consider the lowly choke cherry to be exotic, but to me, that year, they were. Their exotic nature came from the fact that I was picking them during what would have been working hours, if I were still employed. I remember stopping, when I picked into an area of shade one day, and marvelling (and giving sincere thanks) that I no longer had appointments to keep, inspectors to plan for, meetings to attend, employees to hire, furniture to inspect, calls to make or any of a thousand other duties that had made up my daily existence for the last 35 years.
In this post, I'm going to show you a few of the many, many pictures I have of the exciting (to me anyway) new fruits I've "discovered" here. Huh? You're right, obviously, lemons and oranges are hardly new fruits, even to a Yooper like me. But I would argue that their 'newness' in his post arises from the fact that they are growing on trees in our yard.
This is our little lemon tree from back on Applebox Lane.
Our orange tree now. (picture taken on July 5th, 2017)
We have learned something about our oranges. These are fairly tart now, but left on the tree, they'll continue to sweeten.In another month or so, they will be wonderfully sweet and have as 'orangey' a flavor as it's possible to imagine.
A mixture of red and yellow guavas. Makes fantastic syrup.
Our first crop of feijoas (Fee'-jo-ahs) next to a tomato for size comparison. The size of each fruit from our most recent crop has about doubled when compared to these little shrimpy things. Proof of Jeanne's soil improvement skills over the past 4 years.
The red and yellow guavas and the feijoa, cut in half
The guavas are a bit of work to eat since the seeds are quite hard. I spit them out.
Once you peel the feijoa, you can eat the entire thing in a bite or two.
My very first fig from Andy's tree on Swanson Road.
What a marvel that I'm walking down the sidewalk and munching a fresh-picked fig. I would have never believed that I'd ever do such a thing.
My first batch of brine-cured olives. (yes, olives are a fruit)
A good crop of passion fruit at the neighbours. Jeanne planted our own after seeing these.
Here's a close up. If you scratch the skin, it'll form scar tissue.
The surprising insides of a passion fruit.
This one looks like the puffer fish of the fruit world.
Although I have tried two frozen durians in the past, this is my first FRESH one. Oh boy!
This beauty weighs in at almost five pounds. It is very hard and those spines are very sharp. How in the world does one eat such a beast?
I have learned the secret to opening them. If you look carefully, you will be able to see its natural split lines. All it takes is to lightly run your knife along the line and it pops open with very little effort.
This one is perfectly ripe. Not splitting open on it's own yet, but just aching for a knife to come along that will help it do so.
Once open, the custard-like parts fall free. I think it must be that Allie, Jeanne and I are getting used to its unusual smell because we really enjoyed this one. We ate it all and I might add that none of us experienced any 'unpleasant digestive effects' from it.
I know that these pictures make it look dry, but that's because it has the thinnest possible membrane over the very soft insides. It does have the most unusual consistency of anything I've ever eaten. Notice the seed in this shot.
These are its boiled seeds cut in half. They taste something like a rather hard cooked potato. I'm the only one eating them but that's okay. I'm getting a kick of it.
It's hard for me to come up with a fruit that I like the best. I think that the fig will always represent a previously unattainable dream to me, but one that has now come true.
The durian is called the King of Fruits and it IS amazing and I know that I'm going to have to continue to buy them, now and then.
But I have to say that the fruit of the Butia capitata palm, my 'butia fruitia', has to hold the top spot in my heart among these new pleasures.
The tree pictured here is the only one I know of, and I have covered a lot of territory on my many walks. I discovered what it is myself. I had come upon it, smelled the aroma of its fruit on the wind, and researched what on earth it could be. The home owners just let the fruit fall and rot. What a shame when you think of it, but how fortunate that they do since I can now reap the rewards. I have made 5 pickings this year and made many gallons of juice. I will probably get one more small picking, but I have three small containers of frozen juice concentrate put away.
You know, retirement is a very special time of life. I've complained a couple of times in my posts that I don't like everything about getting old, but this final stage of life really does offer many, many rewards that make up for the downside.
I can't quite put into words what a relief it is to be no longer employed. I was even being annoyed by dreams fairly often about being at work and dealing with the same sort of daily problems that I did in real life. Then one night recently, in my dream, I suddenly said, "That's it, we're out of here," and I stood up from the chair in which I was sitting. The dream ended. I have not had another working dream since then. Maybe I'm now free of even my dreams of work. It's only been a couple of weeks so who knows, but I can hope.
Retirement is a time for learning. Whatever interests one has, suddenly, there is much more time to pursue them. And for me to be given the opportunity to 'study' in such an environment as New Zealand means more than I can express. I never knew that I'd be able to spend time searching out new fruit. Good grief, I was much too busy earning a living, it never occurred to me to want to do such a thing back then, but now I can.
To those of you who are still harnessed to the responsibilities of work and earning, I want to give you hope. So many times, I really wondered if I'd ever make it to retirement, the way seemed so long, but I did. Your way probably seems equally long. It's especially hard toward the end I think, when you're getting weary of the load but the end and its reward is still just out of sight. Keep plugging away. Do a day at a time. I made up a phrase that helped me keep my days in perspective when they got frustrating. I would repeat to myself, "Every day has an evening." That was my goal every day, to get to the evening. And then I'd turn off the day's events completely and enjoy my home.
You'll get there too. And then oh, what a relief. Then you can start sitting on benches all over town like I do, or collecting P. G. Wodehouse books, or wandering between the markets to see if the cherimoyas are in yet, or the new crop of dragon fruit, or the chocos, or the paw paws. And you'll rush (as best you can anyway) back home to fire up the computer to research just what the heck kind of fruit a 'sapota' is, and how do you eat it?. And you'll start to accumulate whole new areas of knowledge. For example, did you know that the world's record jack fruit weighed 76 pounds? Yup.
click anywhere on this address and follow the link:
This subject is one that I really like and it's huge. I can't possibly say enough or show you pictures of all the interesting fruits I've come across. I think I need to add a part two to this post.
And besides what I have experienced, there are people like Fred and McKenzie, who advise me about interesting discoveries that they have made in Minnesota. I'm going to tell you all about their savoury discovery as part of my second fruit post.
Jeanne just told me that fresh mangosteens are in at Da Hua Market. I'm outta here...
...it's later and I'm back, with 5 of these little beauties. What a treat. -djf
