Medlar

Let me tell you about the medlar, and why you must be patient with it.

Pick one up when it is hard, and you will spit it out. Sour, puckering, no use to anyone. Leave it be. Watch it sit in the bowl day after day, and watch it change. Press it with your thumb: a good medlar gives, soft as a ripe plum left too long in the sun. Hold it to your nose: it should smell like baked apple with a touch of wine. Look at it: the skin should look bruised, tired, almost spoiled. That is the ripe one; that is the one you want. Break it open and the flesh inside is brown, soft, almost syrupy, and sweet in a way the hard fruit never hints at.

Some people see that brown, soft fruit and think it has gone off, so they throw it in the bin. No! With medlars, that is exactly how they should look. The same impatience leads to another mistake: people bite into a hard medlar, pull a face, and swear never to touch one again. They met the fruit at the wrong moment and judged it for life. Wait for the medlar to go soft and bruised-looking in your hand. Then it will reward you.