Chirimoya – my new favorite fruit!
Grocery shopping in a foreign country is an excellent way to discover a country's culture, and Spain is no exception. In addition to our local supermarket, the streets are lined with many specialty shops, including local fruterias (fruit stores), pescaderias (fish vendors), carniceras (butchers), panaderias (bakeries), and pastelerias (pastry shops).
As I pass fruterias, I admire the bright, colorful fruit I love and know well, that is, except for one I have never seen before. From afar, it resembles an artichoke, but upon closer examination, this heart shaped fruit has no individual leaves, only a brown outlined scalloped pattern on varying shades of green skin. "¿Que es ego?" I asked. "!Una chirimoya!" replied the clerk. I still had no idea what a chirimoya was, but I explained that I would like a ripe one. She provided me with directions on how to eat a chirimoya, and explained a bit about their origins in South America and how they are now grown in Granada in southern Spain.
After dinner, I carefully sliced the chirimoya in half to find a milky colored flesh speckled with large black seeds that resemble fat watermelon seeds. With a spoon, I dug in and scooped up a spoonful of this soft substance. The smooth texture was pleasant and the flavor was a mixture of pear and cream custard with a hint of sweet pineapple. It was amazing! As I continued to scoop out the fruit, occasionally spitting out seeds, as I was warned they are poisonous if swallowed. After several minutes, all the fruit was gone, leaving an empty shell, black seeds and an utter sense of satisfaction.
The popular chirimoyas were prominently displayed in fruterias and supermarkets all over Madrid until one day in the beginning of December, they disappeared. The season was over and I was crushed. It has now been five months without my new favorite fruit, but just the other day, I spotted a display of chirimoyas in a fruteria. They're back and I'm thrilled! In the USA, a chirimoya is called a custard apple, and I'm sure with a little effort I'll be able track one down when I return to the USA to remind me of my days in Spain.
As I pass fruterias, I admire the bright, colorful fruit I love and know well, that is, except for one I have never seen before. From afar, it resembles an artichoke, but upon closer examination, this heart shaped fruit has no individual leaves, only a brown outlined scalloped pattern on varying shades of green skin. "¿Que es ego?" I asked. "!Una chirimoya!" replied the clerk. I still had no idea what a chirimoya was, but I explained that I would like a ripe one. She provided me with directions on how to eat a chirimoya, and explained a bit about their origins in South America and how they are now grown in Granada in southern Spain.
After dinner, I carefully sliced the chirimoya in half to find a milky colored flesh speckled with large black seeds that resemble fat watermelon seeds. With a spoon, I dug in and scooped up a spoonful of this soft substance. The smooth texture was pleasant and the flavor was a mixture of pear and cream custard with a hint of sweet pineapple. It was amazing! As I continued to scoop out the fruit, occasionally spitting out seeds, as I was warned they are poisonous if swallowed. After several minutes, all the fruit was gone, leaving an empty shell, black seeds and an utter sense of satisfaction.
The popular chirimoyas were prominently displayed in fruterias and supermarkets all over Madrid until one day in the beginning of December, they disappeared. The season was over and I was crushed. It has now been five months without my new favorite fruit, but just the other day, I spotted a display of chirimoyas in a fruteria. They're back and I'm thrilled! In the USA, a chirimoya is called a custard apple, and I'm sure with a little effort I'll be able track one down when I return to the USA to remind me of my days in Spain.
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