Feijoa frenzy, and a poem (sorry about that)

FeijoaFeijoa: 100 Day Project #9

One of the things we miss when we live overseas, as so many of us do, is the Feijoa, that love-it-or-hate-it Brazilian native which we have clasped to our hearts as our very own.

The eating experience is not easy to describe.  It has a strong perfume, a granular texture and an almost jellyish centre when ripe.  The taste gives rise to its other name, the ‘Pineapple guava’

The feijoa doesn’t travel well and as a result it’s a delicacy best enjoyed on the spot armed with a Swiss Army knife, teaspoon and sticky fingers.

Feijoas freeze pretty well, though they do go a little brown, so it is possible to enjoy them throughout the year in crumbles, cakes and fruit sponges.  At my friend Matt’s house they get made into spiffy turnovers.  Another friend (Dr) Jane pointed me to this excellent blog resource for feijoa lovers which includes a fantastic Peter Gordon roasted Feijoa chutney which you do not even have to peel or scoop out the feijoas!  True bonus!

Most of us with a feijoa tree in the backyard know the delight of the start of the season, and the inter-household bartering which goes on.  After a period the massive abundance can start to feel a little onerous, leading to surprisingly profitable, if short-lived, roadside stalls and shopping bags hauled into office lunchrooms.  That feeling inspired this poem.

The feijoas

The first resounding plop

is feted by all,

fought over and devoured,

still hard and sour,

by the victor.

Then a thudding,

steadily increasing in tempo,

A green inundation.

Like sorceror’s apprentices,

we press our abundance

into lunches, crumbles, jars

and our neighbours’ hands.

Silent in reproach,

the invaders occupy the grass,

softening and slippery,

Until the lawnmower relieves us

of our embarrassment.

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