Sunday, September 11, 2022

The time of the pawpaws

This is a magnificent sight. Clusters of big pawpaws (the fruit of Asimina triloba), ripening in Brooklyn, just a few blocks from where we live. If I had an in-ground garden, I would plant two trees. Even if I wasn't quite sure how long I'd be there. But better if I could look forward to picking them every early fall. They take around seven years to bear fruit. And these trees are only around 12 years old. When their grower, Lola, texted me to ask if I would like some (for the third year in a row), my answer was an all-caps YES, PLEASE. 

September. Month of pawpaws. At least, in this zip code (October, for upstate, NY). The apartment smells like tropical fruit salad. I spoon up mouthfuls and cherish every bite. 

Tomorrow I will de-seed them and freeze some portions of pulp, for future picnics and foodsploration. There will have to be just one batch of ice cream (which is indescribably good), even though the whole freezer will have to be unpacked to accommodate the bowl of the ice ream maker. 

I think I'll make the pawpaw spicecake from Forage, Harvest, Feast for this Saturday's adventure in the wilds of Staten Island.




  1. Mine are still ripening. I had been hand-pollinating them in the past, but the appearance of fruit out of my reach tells me that the flies have finally found them!

  2. Just outside Philadelphia.

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