JOST A MON

The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

Aug 1, 2008

Picota

So! It was the season for the delectable Picota cherry, and I don't mean the lovely young woman brandishing them in the adjoining picture. I managed to snag a few at the local Tesco. I haven't been paying attention to the various types of cherry in the world (despite my usual interest in fruit and food), but the inlay card in the box piqued my attention. Here's what it says:
  1. Picota cherries are grown and hand-plucked in western Spain, in the beautiful Jerte Valley, in the region of Extremadura.
  2. They are grown exclusively in this region and nowhere else in the world.
  3. The Jerte Valley is home to over two million cherry trees, a spectacular sight during the springtime blossoming.
  4. Approximately 5000 families grow Picota cherries in the valley; it is common to find three generations of the same family working on a Picota cherry farm.
  5. They have been grown since the 17th century.
  6. The cherries have a Cereza de Jerte denomination of origin that guarantees the quality and source of the fruit.
  7. The mild sunny climate of the Jerte Valley means Picota cherries ripen gradually - for up to twice as long as other cherries. The longer ripening creates Picota cherries' unique deep flavour (interjection: deep and yummy!) It also causes a natural barrier to form between the cherry and its stalk; the stalk then detaches naturally when the fruit is picked (interjection: yes! I noticed that! Very thoughtful!).
  8. They have a short season: mid-June to the end of July (interjection: dammit! My first box of these will not end up being my last!)

Interestingly, this is also the eleventh year that these cherries have shown up in the UK, as part of the Foods from Spain promotion.

When Manoj came back from his trip to Brazil, he was all agog about the exotic fruit he had consumed in copious quantities in that country. He gave me a list of their names and I have forgotten every one of them. So I ensured that I snaggled a little foldout with the names of the exotic fruit of Thailand that I encountered on my recent trip there.

Not all of the fruit are native to Siam, of course, although some have grown there so long that they might for all intents and purposes be considered local. The Rose Apple, or Chompoo(ชมพู), is among them. It looks like a bell-pepper, has an apple-like flesh, and tastes of rosewater. Very delicate flavours. It's originally from Malaya, but is now available far more widely, including India.

Next is the frightful Dragon Fruit, or Kaew Mungkorn. Inside, it looks like an albino kiwi, all pale off-white with pink or black pinprick-like seeds. Its taste, though, is nothing like a kiwi or anything else on earth. Again, a rather delicate flavour; it is eaten by being scooped out of its skin. Aficionados would appreciate the fact that it is available throughout the year. [Photo from here.]

We move on to the hairy Rambutan (or Ngoh, เงาะ), whose red rubbery shell can be removed with a gentle knife-cut, to reveal a mildly sweet, succulent, translucent flesh. Very like a lychee, if not as sweet, what? It's a seasonal fruit: May to July.

The Long Gong, or Duku, is a fruit that grows (like grapes) in a bunch. A pale brown skin covers it; when removed, a translucent flesh is revealed, which is a bit tart. The seed is very bitter, so ensure you don't bite into it! This is another seasonal fruit: August to September.

The Sapodilla (or Lumut) tastes like figs and looks a bit like a papaya from the inside, though much smaller. Sweet and somewhat pungent, gritty, and (before fully ripe) honey-flavoured, it has a large seed which is not edible. The Thais like to carve up the meat into little sculptures. See here, for example. It is available all year.


The Longan (photo from here) resembles the lychee mightily, especially in its translucent flesh. Its shell breaks easily under a small pressure between thumb and finger and the very sweet, pinkish-white fruit is revealed. The Thais make several desserts out of this fruit with syrup or sticky rice. Available mainly between May and September.

And finally, we have the Mangosteen, which resembles neither a mango nor Bruce Springsteen. (Photo from here.) One breaks it open by prying gently with one's thumbs, cracking the rind along the ensuing crack. Its sap is a strong dye, so watch out! The fruit was considered sufficiently exotic at one time that Queen Victoria is said to have offered a reward to anyone who could get her some. And the sour-sweet rush of flavours on biting into it has been legendary for aeons. It is even recorded in Ayurveda, according to this article. Its season is June to October.

The boy is asleep, the wife is off to Gloucester, so I am hanging around at loose end. What's a boy to do when hanging loose? Munch an orange. This got me thinking about the wheres and hows and whichs of this delightful fruit.

Last year around this time, the clan was in Spain. A brief visit into El Corte Inglés, a local supermarket chain, revealed to us the glory of freshly squeezed Valencia oranges. We consumed several litres of it daily (being unpasteurised, it would decay in a day even in the fridge). Years earlier, when I was piling onto cousin Beena in Santa Clara, she treated me to the fresh juice produced in California. That had been delightful as well. More recently, in Egypt, the wife and the boy fell upon the local variety of the citrus and pronounced it the best they ever had. I have to concur. The Egyptian orange is subtler, sweeter, sourer and smoother than any of its kin.

It turns out that all citrus fruits can mutually interbreed. The mind boggles. Imagine a cross between a lime and a clementine. Greenish yellow on one hemisphere, deep orange on the other, with the colours bleeding into each other at the equator. Squeeze it lovingly and add a splash of rum - ooh, I'm thirsty already.

So what are the various varieties of orange? Here are the sweet ones: Persian, Valencia, Blood, and Navel. I dare say the Egyptian variety is similar to the Persian. The Seville variety is a sour orange. Then there is the mandarin orange, also called the tangerine, into which class also fall the satsuma and the clementine.

These are all originally South-East Asian fruits, although some (like the satsuma) have been cultivated in China, transplanted to Japan, and reintroduced to China over the centuries. The etymology of orange is supposedly from the Sanskrit naranga. The largest producers are Brazil, the USA, Mexico and India. Those shrivelled-looking santras so beloved of the Delhiites in winter are part of India's 3 million tonne annual production.

The Sanguinello, Moro and Tarocco varieties of blood orange owe their red colouration to the large anthocyanin content in their skins. I have had the Sicilian variety of blood orange several times, and it is superb, if a little sharper than the Spanish type.

... Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's. But that is another story.

People, please, if at all you can manage it, drink juice that is not from concentrate. The reconstituted stuff (such as the muck purveyed on your average airline) is a poor, poor approximation. What you should do, though, is to squeeze the fruit yourself to prepare the juice. Or, best, support your favourite producer of the fresh juice and buy it direct from him.