Medlars - Mespilus germanica
We gardeners are a patient bunch.
Three years I’ve been waiting for this lot. Since they’ve been thinking about possibly one day emerging from the unpromising stick I planted back in 2011 my youngest has started secondary school, my eldest has reached GCSE age, we’ve all been to France and Italy and the Isle of Wight (twice) and I’ve muddled my way through two whole lambings. I’ve known people take less time getting engaged, married and divorced.
Planting any fruit tree is an act of faith. In its first year you get no fruit at all, or at least you shouldn’t: it’s too busy putting down roots, so if you do see fruit buds you should whip them off sharpish (wiping away an anguished and regretful tear as you do so). Year two, and you might have a handful – a sort of snifter of what’s to come, just to keep you interested.
This year, however, is year three: and at last my patience is rewarded. I knew when the tree was covered in handsome white blossom this spring that we’d have a good year, and so it has proved: every branch is laden with little ‘culs de chien’ (the French, therefore more socially-acceptable version of the Shakespearean slang for medlar, which was – hands over the kids’ eyes now – open-arse).
Medlars are an ancient fruit, cultivated by the Greeks and Romans, and one of those in secrets of grow-your-own types as you can’t buy them in the shops and so have to plant a tree yourself to enjoy them. Luckily the trees don’t grow all that big so are lovely in small gardens: as well as the blossoms and weird-looking fruit the leaves turn a handsome russet in autumn too.
I did think I was in for a bumper crop this year but the dry summer has put paid to that. In September most of the fruits dropped sadly off the branches at around an inch across. I did collect some in the hope that I could ‘blet’ them (of which more later), but instead of going soft they just dried into rock hard inedible husks. Must remember to water the orchard more often in sunny spells.
So I was humbly grateful to see that a good bowlful or so had clung on to fatten on the branches. It’s a great mistake to harvest medlars too early, however tempting that may be. Wait until at least late October, and preferably early November, when they will be at their fattest (mine reached over two inches across before I gave in and collected them).
It’s even better to hold on till the first frost, as this goes some way towards bletting them on the tree (yes, I know, don’t worry, I’m coming to it). But if you live where I do it’s touch and go whether you actually get a frost (none last year, and with 12-degree-plus temperatures outside as I type it’s not looking great for this year either). And they do have a habit of dropping off the tree anyway before you get that far.
You just snap them off the tree to harvest – they should come away quite easily. They’re still hard at this point and quite inedible, which is where the bletting comes in (the word comes from the French for ‘overripe’ – itself from the word for injured or bruised).
Basically you turn them upside down (for stability – otherwise they roll all over the place) and leave them on a plate, tray or box somewhere cool, dark and frost-free. In two or three weeks the flesh turns brown and soft, and there’s a ‘give’ to the skin. This is when they’re ready to eat.
I adore medlars. They have the strangest texture and flavour of any fruit you’ll ever try: quite unlike any of the usual apples or pears or bananas. The flesh is creamy and thick, like custard, and the flavour is similar too: a sort of citrussy sweet vanilla.
I have a pound or two of them bletting in the kitchen right now. Not much to show for three years’ patience, I know, but since gardeners are also eternally and irrationally optimistic I shall hope for better next year. Meanwhile I shall snaffle one or two to eat straight out of the skins with a teaspoon, and make the rest into medlar jelly – something that’s been on my bucket list for years now. You never know: next year I might make two jars…
We gardeners are a patient bunch.
I did think I was in for a bumper crop this year but the dry summer has put paid to that. In September most of the fruits dropped sadly off the branches at around an inch across. I did collect some in the hope that I could ‘blet’ them (of which more later), but instead of going soft they just dried into rock hard inedible husks. Must remember to water the orchard more often in sunny spells.
So I was humbly grateful to see that a good bowlful or so had clung on to fatten on the branches. It’s a great mistake to harvest medlars too early, however tempting that may be. Wait until at least late October, and preferably early November, when they will be at their fattest (mine reached over two inches across before I gave in and collected them).
