In Pursuit Of The Pluot

by Judy Sobeloff, from the September 2003 newsletter

Next time you're stuck in a crowd of milling people, yell “Pluot!” Those who don’t think “small imported car” will divide into two camps, the Smitten and the Skeptical. For example, Co-op produce manager Dani: “Pluots are my most favorite stone fruit. I eat one every day. Pluot, why not?”

Or, alternatively, Co-op newsletter editor Therese: “I find pluots suspicious for some reason. Are you sure they aren’t genetically modified? Why would plums and apricots carry on like that otherwise? What happened to the apricot fuzz? And why are they mottled like that?”

‘I hear you, I hear you all. Let's trace the pluot’s history and see if we can find some common ground.

‘Sold commercially for the first time in 1989, the pluot (70% plum, 30% apricot) was developed by Floyd Zaiger, a California fruit breeder determined to improve upon the plumcot, a 50-50 mix developed a century ago by Luther Burbank. ‘The pluot is an “interspecific,” a complex hybrid which Zaiger developed over several generations of trees, sweeter than the average plum. Certainly something about the word “pluot” evokes images of laboratories and white coats rather than fruit orchards and sunlight. My layperson’s understanding of the hybridization process is that it’s always possible to breed closely related things using standard propagation techniques. If they aren’t closely related enough, the resulting offspring will be sterile, as in the case of a horse and donkey producing a mule. According to David Karp, who visited Zaiger’s nursery, almost all of the original plum-apricot crosses were sterile, but a few bore fruit, and Zaiger started saving the seedlings of the most flavorful ones for further crossings. Even today, Zaiger’s hybridization is painstaking, involving elaborate climate control and transferring pollen with an eyebrow brush. Still, Karp writes, “None of their hybrids result from genetic engineering.” (An example of genetic engineering, according to my scientist hubby, would be creating plums that glow in the dark by crossing them with luminescent jellyfish genes.)

At least 25 varieties of pluots are sold commercially, with names like Flavor Queen, Blue Gusto, Hand Grenade, and Last Chance. The Co-op carries a variety called Dapple Dandy, which is the only one described as having spotted skin.

When Fred evaluated the pluot as “basically a plum, a very good plum,” I turned to Jonna, now 21 months, hoping for something more. Too late—she’d already been influenced by her father’s plumcentric assessment. “Pum, Mommy! Pum!” she exclaimed, her hair, face, and torso dripping with red juice and pluot bits. I pressed on with leading questions: “Is it yummy, Jonna? Is it good? Is it juicy?”

“Juicy. My juice.” But her real interest lay elsewhere: “Sharp. Owie. Hand.” No matter how far the pluot has traveled from its humble beginnings, it still has a pointy pit.

I was stymied when it came time to use the pluot in a recipe. I thought, why bury such a delicious fruit in a heap of other ingredients? It's perfect as-is. My desire to leave the poor pluot alone was reinforced when I saw the recipes available on the Web. The first recipe I came across was “Ostrich in Pluot Sauce.” Fred wanted me to substitute Ritz crackers for ostrich so I could include the recipe here as “Mock Ostrich with Pluot Sauce,” but I declined. Instead, I settled on “Pluot Sauce,” a syrupy mixture of pluots, sugar, and water which was delicious over ice cream. It looked like rhubarb and was tart and sweet.

So, settle back, folks, and let the juice of the pluot run freely down your chins. According to Karp, still to come from the Zaiger Nursery, slated for 2010: white apricots, nectaplums, peacotums.…

Flavor King Pluot Sauce/Jam (from edengarden.com)

4 cups chopped pluots (4-5 pluots)
1 cup sugar
1 cup water

Mix together and cook until mixture bubbles, stirring constantly. It should come to a syrupy consistency. Add water and sugar to taste. Perfect as a topping for ice cream. Lasts about a month in the refrigerator.
(Note: I stirred for an awe-inspiring 40 minutes, but in retrospect, 20 minutes would have been plenty.)

Pluot And Nectarine Compote (from Melissas.com)

4 cups watermelon scooped into 3/4-in. balls
1 whole cantaloupe scooped into 3/4-in. balls
3 cups honeydew melon scooped into 3/4-in. balls
2 pluots, each cut into 6 wedges
2 cups seedless green grapes
1 Tbsp. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbsp. lime juice

In a large bowl combine all the fruit. In a small bowl stir together the sugar, salt, and lime juice until the sugar and salt dissolve. Drizzle the syrup over the fruit and toss the mixture gently until it is combined well. Chill the compote, covered, stirring gently once or twice, overnight.

REFERENCES
http://www.edengarden.com (article by David Karp reprinted from Gourmet, September 2000.)
http://www.melissas.com/recipes/index.cfm?recipe_id=1407

Copyright: Copyright on articles, recipes and images are jointly held by the Moscow Food Co-op and the respective contributors, except were otherwise noted.

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