Reclaiming the Prune

by Judy Sobeloff, from the October 2006 newsletter

Little seed inside the prune,
Is it night or is it noon?
Whatcha doin’, Prune?  Stewin’?  Hmm?
            --childhood rhyme

When our daughter was born, we planted a plum tree to welcome her, a “Stanley prune,” and two years later she helped us plant a Stella cherry tree to welcome her baby brother.  Later we remembered that the tale of Stanley and Stella had already been told by Tennessee Williams in A Streetcar Named Desire, but nonetheless the drama in our backyard unfolds anew each spring.  The first year, the tree bore three plums, which we watched over as they grew from pea-sized green ovoids into full purple oblong splendor.  The next year, we had bounty, a couple dozen prune plums, and now, at the end of its fifth season, the tree is resplendent.  We’ll need a ladder to reach them all.  Our daughter wants to plant the pits in our yard, prompting me to wonder about the purpose of the pit and what it is about growing older that teaches us that some seeds, no matter how promising, will not bear fruit.  I wish her the joy of planting and dreaming, even if none of these pits germinates, even if blossoms from her efforts never blanket our backyard, much less the countryside.

I admit having felt a flicker of disappointment when I learned that the plum tree we were planting for our daughter was technically a prune.  Now that I can’t get enough of these prune plums, it’s interesting to me how our cultural associations with prunes as laxatives for the elderly have decreased our desire for them, an association which, I learned through my prune plum research this month, holds no water in Europe.  Could part of the problem be that prune sounds like prude?  Or that prune also means “to clear of useless material” or “to preen?”  Here, in fact, our squeamishness has resulted in a movement, ahem, to give the prune a make-over and call it a “dried plum.”  Which indeed it is.  Except of course that only a certain kind of plum—the variety known as a prune—will do.  Drying any other of the thousands of varieties of plums results in excessive fermentation.  To put it simply: “Plums are round; prunes are oblong” (everything2.com).  The F.D.A. has apparently agreed to the prunes as “dried plums” switchover, but drew the line at renaming prune juice “dried plum juice,” because, as they argued, juice can not be dry.

Plums are currently the second most cultivated fruit in the world, following apples.  What makes a plum a plum, as opposed to a nectarine or an apricot, say, is the groove running down one side like a seam, and the smooth pit.  Although early American colonists encountered wild plums growing in New England, 99 percent of prune plums in the U.S. are now grown in California.  Interestingly, there was such a severe labor shortage in California in 1905 that prune plums were harvested by monkeys, who I’m sure didn’t give a fig about the prune’s image problem.

I’m having trouble picturing how monkeys could do this, as I—a rational human who understands the concept of delaying gratification—prefer to eat my prunes fresh from the tree rather than having to deposit them in a container as implied by the concept of “harvest.”  I understand that the prune is sweet due to sugar content, not starch, and that, once picked, prunes ripen further by softening but not by becoming sweeter.  Despite a shared preference for immediate consumption, my family enjoyed prunes prepared at two extremes of temperature:  Fresh from the oven, the Prune Plum Clafouti, a French pancake-like dessert, was fabulous.  Though one is advised to leave refrigerated plums at room temperature for an hour before eating them, to “awaken” their flavor (which is dulled by cold), we also enjoyed eating unsweetened frozen plums, aka prune popsicles, straight from the freezer. 

PRUNE PLUM CLAFOUTI (adapted from www.chowtimes.com)

12 fresh prune plums
1/3 cup plus 3 Tbsp. flour
¼ cup sugar
2 eggs
1/3 cup plus 3 Tbsp. milk
3 oz. (6 Tbsp.) unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 375 F.  Cut each prune plum into 4 pieces and put them in a greased shallow ovenproof dish (3 cups capacity).  Sift the flour and sugar into a medium bowl.  Combine the eggs, milk, and butter in a different bowl.  Make a well in the center of the flour/sugar mixture.  Gradually stir the eggs/milk/butter mixture into the flour/sugar mixture.  Stir the batter until smooth, then spoon the batter evenly between the prune plums.  Bake for about 30 minutes, or until firm and golden brown.  Serve warm. 

FROZEN PLUMS AND PRUNES (from Michigan State University Extension)
UNSWEETENED VERSION: Pack whole fruit into containers, leaving ½ inch headspace.  Seal, label, and freeze.
SWEETENED VERSION: Cut fruit in halves or quarters and pack into containers.  Cover fruit with cold 50 percent syrup (1 cup sugar to 1 cup water).  For improved quality, add ½ tsp. ascorbic acid to a quart of syrup.  Leave ½ inch headspace.  Seal, label, and freeze.   

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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