KIWIFRUIT These days, it brings in billions in profits for our
chipper pals across the ditch, but, despite its name, the kiwifruit is
no New Zealand native. Rather, the fuzzy fruit began its life as the
‘macaque peach’ in mainland China – so-called for its popularity
with the local macaque monkey population. It wasn’t until 1904
that a dame by the name of Mary Isabel Fraser – principal of
Whanganui Girls’ College on New Zealand’s North Island – took a
trip to China to visit some local mission schools. While there, she
took a liking to the tart, green fruit, and brought seeds back home
to NZ, tucked away in her luggage. (Presumably border control was
more relaxed back then.) They were planted in Whanganui in 1906;
four years later, the vines began to fruit. Noticing a similarity in
flavour, locals named the plant the ‘Chinese gooseberry’ – until they
began exporting it to the US in the ’50s. At the height of the Cold
War, China’s Communist connection was a marketing nightmare,
so produce company Turners and Growers threw around some other
options – namely ‘melonettes’ and, eventually, the ‘kiwifruit’, after
the country’s flightless national bird. And so, a major horticultural
industry was born, and the kiwifruit was established in the public
mindset as a quintessential New Zealand product.
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APPLE An apple a day may keep the doctor away, but the crunchy
fruit wasn’t always such an appealing snack. In their early days,
apples were smaller and far more bitter than those we chomp on
for morning tea – naturalist Henry David Thoreau described them
as “sour enough to set a squirrel’s teeth on edge and make a jay
scream”. A process of natural selection was the fruit’s saving grace.
Travellers through Eastern Europe – where apples originated –
picked the larger, sweeter fruit to eat, spreading their pips across
the continent and north into the Baltic regions. As it became more
palatable, royals latched on to the apple’s goodness: Henry VIII
established a dedicated orchard growing many different varieties;
Queen Victoria developed a fondness for baked apples; and Catherine
the Great had Golden Pippin apples shipped over to her palace in
Russia, each wrapped individually in paper made from real silver.
When folks weren’t taking bites out of them, they drank apples
as cider – the most valuable, accessible tipple in early America.
(It was even considered healthier than water since sanitation was
so poor.) Farmers rode this tangy wave through till the 1920s, when
the Prohibition put a stop to cider’s demand; as a result, marketers
turned their attention back to the fruit’s nutritious, health-bringing
qualities and yumminess as a stand-alone snack.
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FIG The humble fig has a long and prosperous history, beginning all
the way back in prehistoric times. According to fruit-loving boffins,
wild figs first sprouted in Africa, West and South Asia, and around
the Mediterranean Sea about 100 million years ago, meaning they
may well have been scoffed by herbivorous dinosaurs. But it was
humans who took the fleshy fruit from strength to strength: believed
to be one of the first domesticated crops, folks in West Asia began
growing fig trees long before staples like wheat or barley. In the first
centuries AD, fig farms popped up throughout the Roman Empire
and, supposedly, Ancient Olympians earned not gold, silver or bronze,
but figs for their athletic prowess. Meanwhile, in Egypt, farmers were
training monkeys to climb trees and pick the precious fruit for them.
The fig held a mystical importance, you see – Egyptians believed
Hathor, the goddess of joy and motherhood, would emerge from a fig
tree to welcome them to heaven, so Pharaohs were buried with dried
figs in their graves, ensuring a safe journey to the afterlife. While
these divine qualities are questionable, there’s no denying the fig’s
medicinal value – packed with fibre, vitamins and bacteria-fighting
compounds, even chimpanzees have been observed self-medicating
with bark and leaves from their trees.
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WATERMELONAccording to Mark Twain, “When one has tasted
watermelon, he knows what the angels eat.” But the writer may have
thought differently had he noshed on a slice of the earliest fruit. A far
cry from the refreshing snack we know today, the flesh of wild African
watermelons was pale, hard and bitter to taste. It took centuries
of selective breeding across the globe to produce a fruit folks were
actually fond of eating – but they may have taken it too far. A specific
variety known as the Bradford watermelon was prized for its super-
sweet flesh and soft, buttery rind; so much so, farmers were forced
to take extra precautions to ward off sticky fingers. Some camped out
with shotguns, while others randomly poisoned certain melons, like
a vitamin-rich game of Russian roulette. (As you can imagine, this
lost some appeal when they forgot which fruit they’d tampered with.)
Another popular security measure was hooking the watermelons up
to electric wires, leading bandits to a nasty shock, and in many cases,
death. Perhaps that’s what Twain was referring to when he linked
angels to the sticky, sweet treat – but either way, it’s worth pondering
next time you nibble on some watermelon at a summer picnic.
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PINEAPPLEThe longstanding debate amongst pizza-eaters is
whether pineapple makes a suitable topping (it doesn’t), but a more
crucial question may be whether a pineapple-topped pizza should
truly be called a ‘Hawaiian’. After all, the tropical fruit isn’t native to
the US state – it’s simply the first place that pineapple was canned.
A more accurate name would be the ‘South American’ (it’s not
quite as catchy, sure, but more historically accurate). Eventually the
pineapple found its way from South America to the Caribbean, and
in 1493, explorer Christopher Columbus discovered the spiny, sweet
fruit on the island of Guadeloupe. Impressed with this new exotic
snack, he packed up a bundle and shipped them back to Spain.
The pineapple was an instant hit, but there was a problem – it needed
a tropical climate to grow. Though farmers attempted to recreate the
warm, humid conditions, it took nearly two centuries to perfect. Even
then, pineapples were in high demand and low supply. They became a
symbol of wealth and prosperity (apparently King Charles II of England
commissioned a painting of his gardener presenting him with the
fruit). Too fancy to eat, pineapples were rented out as decorative
pieces for dinner parties, used again and again until they began to
rot. At that point, an affluent buyer would take it home to devour.
But never atop a pizza with mozzarella and ham, of course.
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AVOCADONext time you sit down for brunch, spare a thought for
the avocado smooshed across your toast: it very nearly died out
13,000 years ago. In the Cenozoic era, mammoths, giant sloths and
other prehistoric megafauna munched on avos whole, like small,
buttery bar snacks – they then travelled long distances and pooped
out the seeds, enabling a new crop of avocado trees to grow. When
the Ice Age wiped out the colossal creatures, this could have spelled
the end for avocados, too. Luckily, industrious humans stepped in
(presumably forseeing the deliciously overpriced meals that lay
ahead of them). Folks in Central America began to cultivate the
avocado, naming it ahuacatl – translated: testicle – for its dangling,
egg-shaped look. This sexual undertone extended beyond the name,
as well – the fruit was considered such a potent aphrodisiac that
virgin daughters were locked indoors while Aztec farmers went
out to harvest. Over centuries, the avocado – which is technically
a berry – was bred to have a greater ratio of flesh to pip. Though
consumers were confused by the savoury fruit for some time (some
even tried stewing it and serving it with custard), eventually an
avocado appreciation caught on, resulting in the ‘superfood’ – and
millennial housing crisis – we know today.
fruits and all
GIANT SLOTHS, POISON AND TESTICLES:
THE NOT-SO-SWEET HISTORY OF YOUR
FAVOURITE HEALTHY SNACKS.
Wor d s Sophie Kalagas
learn something new