The ‘Tri-Lite’ peach-plum hybrid is one of the most beautiful members of the (extended) peach family.
It is also quite a delicious fruit, really combining the best of both parents. It looks externally and perhaps tastes most like a peach, but the strikingly white flesh has a texture that leans slightly in the plum direction, and the pleasant aftertaste is very plummy. We were able to eat a bumper harvest of these, though the latter part of the crop coincided with the apparent loss of good bee fodder and so we lost some of the crop.
The bees were also kind enough to share some of their Arctic Jay nectarines and Arctic Supreme peaches with us.
The ‘Panamint’ nectarine produced such a heavy crop this year that one branch split (though did not break).
And another bent all the way to the ground, but somehow did not split at all. (It amazes me how supple fruit wood can be; obviously a “smart” evolutionary adaptation for species that bear weight seasonally.)
We are quite lucky not to have lost this tree, which really became literally overbearing! Now it is all propped up, rather artfully by the Ladera Frutal labor crew.
And, lesson learned from a close call, I put this board beneath the Dapple Dandy graft on our 4-in-1 pluot. The Dapple Dandy has a very heavy crop this year, and Flavor Queen (on the back side of the tree) also has its best crop yet. The other two, however, did not produce much: just a few Flavor Kings and no Flavor Supremes.
The Queens have just begun to ripen, but the Dandies are still several days away. (I have seen them start to show up at local farmer’s markets under their commercial name, Dinosaur Egg.)
The Panamint nectarines, on the other hand, are now gone. We ate quite a few, but it was a small percentage of the heavy crop. Most of them were consumed by bees, like this busy one.
I have never seen as much bee damage as on this tree this year. It is as if they feel that, having made the fruit possible with their pollination months ago, they are entitled to eat their fill.
Peak apricot season has arrived within the past week. And that’s always one of the best seasons of the year!
The ‘Newcastle’ reached its peak this year a little later than usual–first week of July rather than end of June. A very heavy crop again, as usual. And always one of the best tasting–at least of the apricot apricots (that is, those with “apricot”-color flesh).
This year, we also have several varieties of “white” apricot.
We had a few fruits on this ‘Shaa Kar Pareh’ apricot last year, but this year the crop is quite heavy. This is an amazing fruit, and they are not even fully ripe yet. So sweet, they are edible even while still a little on the firm side. Incredibly juicy and with a tang that might lead you to think it was a plumcot, rather than an apricot.
We also have fruit on the ‘Canadian White Blenheim.’ This is actually not as white as the Shaa Kar Pareh’ but it certainly is paler in color than any “ordinary” apricot, and also distinctive in flavor. It has never set before for us, even though it has bloomed in some of its five previous springs since planting. What a treat!
Exciting as all the above is here at Ladera Frutal, nothing in Ladera Frutal history quite beats the thrill of harvesting one’s own Hunzas!
It had only three fruits, but this tree has earned its keep on just those three precious apricots. I have previously had ‘Hunza’ apricots only dried, imported from Pakistan, where they are a staple of the diet in some of the valleys of their origin. The dried fruit has a sugary intensity unlike any other dried apricot, and the fresh ripe fruit is just intense! It is amazingly sweet, very juicy and just packed full of flavor unlike any stone fruit I have ever eaten before. It also is one of the largest apricots you will ever see. To top it all off, the kernels are edible, too. (I have not yet cracked open the pits, but that’s on the to-do list.)
Here are a cut Shaa Kar Pareh (left) and a Hunza alongside the pit of another Hunza. There should be a tasty little kernel inside that pit!
(We did not yet have any ripe White Blenheims at the time I took that photo.)
I am not sure if the ‘Hunza’ really qualifies as a white apricot, but I think I have seen it so-classified. It certainly is paler than your typical apricot. Let’s just call it an unbelievably delicious apricot and leave it at that!
Yes, this has been a good year for apricots! And here I have not even gotten into the ‘Flavor Delight’ aprium and ‘Royal Rosa’ apricots earlier in the season, or the ‘Autumn Glo’ and ‘Earli Autumn’ yet to come. Nor did I even mention ‘Royal’ (small crop this year, just about done now, but not to be forgotten).
Every year, the ‘Weeping Santa Rosa’ is one of our most eagerly awaited fruits. And this is a certainly one of the most ornamental edibles, as well–year round. In flavor, this variety is quite close to the familiar Santa Rosa, but certainly not identical. Perhaps even better.
The weeping feature also comes in handy for harvesting. This tree is now about ten feet tall–I don’t prune it much, because the growth habit is one of the tree’s most desirable characteristics. The weeping branches allow one to tug on the lower part of a branch that originates near the top of the tree, thus pulling the fruit down to a more reachable level. Very handy!
(The tree is pictured about a week ago, before ripening. When ripe, the fruit is a very dark bluish purple.)
Just a little bit ago, at 4:59 p.m. Ladera Frutal Daylight Time (23:59 UTC), was the summer solstice. And it felt like it, too, as minutes before, the temperature peaked at 102. (That’s about 39 for those of you using the more sensible Celsius scale, though, really, “102″ just sounds more impressive.)
Yes, summer is here. We are celebrating with the ripening of the first ‘Tropic Snow’ peaches of the season–a rare kind of snow that can stand up to this heat.
The Royal Rosa, the first of our ten or so apricot varieties to ripen, is now at its peak. It probably ranks near the bottom of our varieties in flavor, which is only to say that while the others range from outstanding to truly phenomenal, the Royal Rosa is merely excellent.1 Of course, any minor deficiencies the variety has in flavor it at least compensates for by being so far out front of the top varieties in its harvest season.
The crop this year is exceptionally heavy. In the background, you can see the Mesch Mesch Amrah “black apricot” which is really a natural plumcot (Prunus x dasycarpa). We just harvested the first of this tree’s typically light crop in recent days. Another plumcot (not pictured), the Flavorella, also is now ripening–and also has its typically light crop, but by far its best in five years since planting.2
Just as the Royal Rosa is reaching its peak (it was much heavier than this a few days ago), we have begun receiving the first fruits of the Flavor Delight aprium.3 The aprium tastes a lot like a really richly flavored apricot, and looks like a really large one. Its crop is heavy, and typically so. It is one of the most reliable apricot-family varieties we have, right up there with Newcastle, which will begin ripening about the time the apriums are done.
Summer is here, in fruiting terms.
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Katy is the only one I have that I would consider getting rid of; if you like subacid apricots, you might like Katy. Ours did not set fruit this spring–no loss, but surprising given the high chill of the past winer and the heavy set on almost all of our other stone fruits. [↩]
There has been some talk, including here at F&V, that maybe this variety needs an apricot such as Goldkist–a variety I do not have here–for cross-pollination. Maybe so, but it did set just under a dozen fruit this year. (It is always a heavy bloomer.) That’s not many fruits, but we’ll gladly take them! As for Goldkist, it never fruited for me well in Carlsbad by the Sea, despite its being claimed as one of the lowest-chill varieties that is alleged to be best for the coast. I always had better crops there on Newcastle and often on Royal/Blenheim. Goldkist is a good tasting variety, though I would not put it in my top 7. [↩]
Also a plum-apricot cross, but like a pluot, one that does not occur naturally. Unlike a pluot, it leans more in flavor and appearance towards its apricot lineage. And for anyone who may be wondering, it is not GMO; I would have none of that in my organic orchard or, knowingly, in my food supply! It is human-assisted hybridization, but done by Zaiger Gentics the (relatively) old fashioned way: controlled transfer of pollen from one variety to another–in this case, multiple varieties over several generations (thus known as a complex hybrid). The Flavorella is also hybridized under controlled conditions, rather than naturally occurring like the Mesch Mesch Amrah. [↩]
The jaboticaba, a fruit from South America that does very well here, is certainly on the short list of really weird fruiting trees. Not too many fruit trees produce their fruit directly on the main limbs. You can walk right by this tree and never imagine there is any fruit on it. But pull back some of the outer twigs and foliage and you see the bounty.
The fruit is luscious. A little hint of blueberry, a little red grape. A gelatinous texture inside a think tannic skin. I would not eat too many of them with their skins, because of the tannins. But the flesh is great to eat, and contrasts remarkably with the flavor of the skin.
I just learned that Paul Thomson has died. Paul was one of the founders in 1968 of the California Rare Fruit Growers, and continued to pioneer the growing of rare fruits until his declining health prevented him from doing so in recent years. He lived into his 90s, which I always thought was a good testament to the power of eating a rich variety of fruits!
I had the pleasure of knowing Paul personally, though not intimately, because I am fortunate enough to live near him and to be a member of the same local chapter of CRFG as its co-founder. He regularly imparted his wisdom on us newcomers (example: always graft at the waxing moon).
I distinctly remember two specific pieces of advice he had for me. When I had just joined CRFG in 1996, and we spoke about where I was planting my first little orchard, in Carlsbad, he asked if I was near “that slough.” Yes, just above one of the lagoons on the coastline. Paul said, “you’ll get a lot more chill than you think.” He was right. It turned out to be a great place to grow stone fruits, including many that the more conventional nursery experts thought I could not grow, but not so good for subtropicals.
Then after moving to Bonsall–just down the road from where Paul lived and experimented for many years–I remember how he repeated with an exclamation the name of the locale of our finca-to-be. Moosa Canyon!! You had better be up high if you want to grow anything that’s tender to frost, he warned me. You’ll get some hard freezes in there, and then he related the experience of his frozen pipes years ago. Well, I planted the tender stuff up as high as I could. And lost almost all of it in the freeze of 2007. The killed trees included a mango variety that bears his name, as it was one of his selections for best mango for a region that will always marginal for subtropical fruits. Indeed, it had just had the most fruit I have ever had in ten years of trying various varieties.
No obituary has appeared yet in the local newspaper, but Seasonal Chef has a nice feature, dated 1997, about the impact Thomson and his followers had on rare-fruit growing here in northern San Diego County and beyond. The story explains how he realized Bonsall was not the place to grow the most tender fruits, and bought a property known as Edgehill, in Vista. I had just driven up to Edgehill a few weeks ago. Many of the magnificent lychee and other trees that he planted decades ago still stand and fruit, even though the property has been developed with several luxury homes. Of course, the real luxury–whether the residents realize it or not–is those great old fruit trees.
Paul knew his fruit. I am blessed to have known Paul.
There is nothing quite like a late spring, unseasonably warm day, as the sun sinks low to the west. The neighbor’s grape vines (lower right) are fully leafed out, and the canyon’s duck pond still holds water from the winter rains.
At sundown it will have been 27 days since the full moon of Aviv, in case anyone is counting.
(Yes, contrary to blog appearances, I am still here.)
The Kuban Burgundy plum, growing just outside the corralito, seems rather happy with the amount of chill we had this year. I think there are about 15-18 fruits on this one (weighted-down) branch.1
Of course, that chill is a distant memory now. It was 99 yesterday, and today marked the third straight day, and the fifth this month (April!), over 90.2
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Actually, 33. So much for my estimation skills. [↩]
And then on 30 April it would almost feel like winter again. [↩]
I had been thinking that this year’s spring was late.1 Apparently not. I was just checking records of last year’s spring via this blog and saw that the cherry trees looked about the same in 2007 as they do right now–about three weeks earlier. They were in bloom in the middle of April in 2007.
Now, with almost a week of March, 2008, remaining, the Royal Rainier and Stella were already at their peak earlier in the past week. Meanwhile the Craig’s Crimson and Bing have their first few blooms.
Many other trees have indeed bloomed later this year.
The winter just ended certainly resulted in more chill overall, notwithstanding that in 2008 we had nothing remotely like the highly concentrated cold snap of January, 2007. The best evidence of greater chill is that this year, the bloom dates of different fruit trees are more closely aligned than last year. That should be good news for pollination.
The Canadian White Blenheim apricot has its best bloom by far.
It has bloomed before, but usually staggering a bit, and before last year, it tended to bloom only after being almost fully leafed out–very unusual for a stone fruit. It has not fruited since planting (2003). Immediately behind the white apricot is the Flavorella plumcot, always one of the first to bloom and here seen almost finished blooming and leafing out. In past years it has fruited only sporadically, despite good blooms. It evidently needs cross-pollination, despite what the catalog said when I bought it. This year, with so many more trees in bloom simultaneously, things are looking up. There is clearly fruit that has set, though I have been growing fruit long enough to know that an apparent set in March is no guarantee of fruit to eat come summer.
There is even hope for the Hunza apricot. It has a few blooms, and appears to have set at least one fruit. I would not count on its holding, however.
Even in this year of significant chill, the Hunza’s delayed leafing (note the still-bare long whip branch off to the right) suggests it really did not get the chill it needs.
Spring is by now very well sprung!
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Measured by when fruit trees are blooming, that is. The equinox always arrives on schedule. [↩]
And just yesterday morning it was the vernal equinox.
In honor of its now being “officially” spring, according to the solar calendar, here’s looking at one of the first fruit trees to bloom every spring (the Kuban Burgundy plum, foreground), and one of the last of the peach/nectarine varieties to reach full bloom (the Panamint).
If I did not know any better, I might think it was Pesach; …the full moon after the vernal equinox…
But, wait, it’s a leap year. Still a month to go. That’s good, because it seems like the perfect evening to raise a toast to spring. It is, after all, a religious obligation on this night.
From left to right, here are a Moro, Sanguinelli, and Tarocco blood orange, all harvested at Ladera Frutal within the past week.
Obviously, these samples vary quite a bit in both external and internal color, with the Tarocco bloodiest on both sides of the peel.
In favor, they really are quite distinct. This was the first time I had ever tasted two or more different varieties in sequence, as it is our first year of any significant (and overlapping) crops on these trees.
I would rate the Moro as the best flavor, followed by the Tarocco. It is actually not an easy call. The Moro has more of the berry flavor notes that lead some sellers to market these as “raspberry oranges.” The Tarocco is milder, but very balanced and after a few tastes, I started to get some unusual complexity, kind of like a fine red wine. (I have also seen blood oranges sold as “burgundy oranges,” although those I have seen sold that way were always Moros.) The Sanguinelli was the most tart of the three by far, but not overly so. It just has less interesting flavor. However, fruit remaining on the tree may simply benefit from more time, and the tree itself is the smallest and least mature of the three.
The Moro is also the most immediately recognizable as an orange by flavor, despite clear differences when compared to a navel or Valencia. The others taste a bit more like a different class of citrus fruit, with the Tarocco even having a “chewy” texture that could almost make you think it had some grapefruit or pummelo in its bloodlines (though, to my knowledge, it does not).
This Tarocco is not the most common strain sold under that name, but a recent selection that I obtained through a CFRG arrangement with the UCR Citrus Variety Collection. It certainly deserves to be widely released and better known.
If by my laws you walk, and my commands you keep, and observe them,
then I will give-forth your rains in their set-time,
so that the earth gives-forth its yield
and the trees of the field give-forth their fruit.
--Vayikra 26: 3-4
F&V time: This blog's date function is so set as to start a new day at approximately local sunset.
(Why, if we have "day" and "night," should a new "day" start in the middle of the night?)
F&V Coordinates: A compass may be helpful for navigating the orchard--a Political Compass, that is.
