Blet that medlar
I was so surprised. For only the second time in seven years the medlar is fruiting.
Here is a glamourous close up of the strange fruit.
How strange? You can only eat it once it has almost rotted. Or bletted if you are polite.
This tree lives on the edge of the vineyard (are we still calling it that?). And if I pan back a bit you can see how badly it is suffering.
I suspect it was planted as a nice little shrub beside the vines about 20 years ago. And then the trees grew up on the terrace above and the poor little tree had to find some sunlight.
So it grew out and out and up and up. And boy is it unsightly.
It’s a ragged mess. And almost impossible to pick the fruit.
But apparently if I pick the neflier (isn’t that a gorgeous word in French?) and then lay them out on a single layer and keep an eye on them for two weeks, they will ripen properly and be ready to eat.
Most people just take to them with a small teaspoon and scoop out the fruit from the top. Or make medlar jelly.
One day I’m going to have a languid life and actually make the time to wander down and pick a bushell of medlars and leave them to blet quietly in an orderly kitchen and turn all the fruit into perfect gifts. Don’t hold your breath.
4th November 2014 @ 9:53 pm
Is a medlar a persimmon? If it is, I have never found a satisfactory way to enjoy them-other than that they make adorable still life subjects!
4th November 2014 @ 10:18 pm
A medlar is a medlar. a very strange beast. I have them beside me and some are ‘rotting’. they taste a bit like a very caramelly pear, but grainy. and frankly so small that you only get one teaspoon per fruit when you scoop. and fleshy bits that are a bit crunchy. I shan’t be harvesting them again!