Me and my granadilla..

Granadilla

A new fruit has recently made it's way into my vocabulary. I had to ask what it was when I first saw it.
"Granadilla" I was told. When the man realized I'd never had one before he offered to give it to me for 1.50 euros instead of the 1.75 that was listed as the price. I felt like I was at a garage sale. Or a boot sale, as the Brits say. I've never tried to bring someone down on the price of a piece of fruit before, but I had to take his enthusiasm as a sign that this fruit was worth a taste.
It was pretty, I admit. I picked it up and admired it's colour and pondered it's hard outer shell. I had visions of it bursting open like a pinata and candy spilling out of it. If I had my choice, it would be peanut m&m's, please.
The market man continued:
"It's like a passion fruit, but different." I remained silent as I absorbed this vague information.
Then he changed his mind:
"No, it really can't be explained. You have to try it. I'll give it to you for one euro, fifty." he said again.

I couldn't help but think that this thing either tastes really good or it is just about to pass its "best by" date and he's trying to offload it on me. But it was so darn pretty and I was curious, and gee, I was saving 25 euro cents on the listed price.

So, me, my granadilla, and my 25 euro cents headed on home. After a very glamourous photo shoot it was time to see what was inside. The outer layer cracked like an eggshell as soon as I brought the knife to it. I had to pull the rest of it open. My first thought was:
"Ugh."
I quickly put it down and stepped approximately 2 paces back from the counter. I needed to look at it from a safe distance for a moment.
There was my pretty granadilla, oozing a gooey, unpleasant looking slime, filled with black seeds. The word I found used to describe the pulp was "mucilagenous". And mucilagenous it was.

Despite my initial revulsion, I still found myself dipping my finger in it for a taste. This is a phenomenon that cannot be explained, but it can be traced back to childhood. A time when there was nothing that we wouldn't put in our mouths. Dirt, gum found on the sidewalk.. you get the picture.
The finger dipping was risky, I know, because I really wasn't entirely sure if this granadilla was even fresh or not. The pulp was cloudy and greenish/grey, and the inside of the shell was white and fluffy, reminiscent of mold. But still, I dipped.




Hmph. Not bad. I dipped again. It was quite tasty. Sweet, fruity and exotic. But like the man told me, it's really hard to describe, you have to taste it to understand it. I knew that the seeds were edible, which is a good thing, because I quickly discovered that they are rather difficult to separate from the pulp. They hold onto each other for dear life, which truthfully, only increased my suspicion. Nonetheless, I was determined to give it the full treatment. I started out with some fresh ricotta, added some sliced peaches and scraped all the gooey pulp out of my granadilla. It fell in a solid mass on top of the ricotta, and I think it actually made a plop noise.
Mmm, mucilagenous.
Another glamourous photo shoot. And then some taste testing.
Needless to say, I took a very small bite.
I crunched and crunched, and crunched some more. The seeds are very crisp. And numerous. I tried another bite, and was a little disappointed that there was still alot of crunching involved.
Bite number 3. Yes, still with the crunching. And then the sound of me scraping it all into the garbage.
And thus ends the story of me and my granadilla.


Granadilla pulp (and seeds) with fresh ricotta

Granadilla facts
Granadilla is the common species of Passiflora, ranging from central Mexico through central and western South America, through western Bolivia to south-central Peru. Throughout this region it is popular and abundant in markets.
It is often eaten as is with a spoon.
(from: Morton, J. 1987. Sweet Granadilla. p. 330–331. In: Fruits of warm climates. Julia F. Morton, Miami, FL.)