loquats, kumquats, and markets
It's loquat season in our part of San Antonio. These peachy-peary orange-yellow fruits are busting out all over, and I've been thinking about them.
First, a word on kumquats and loquats. For some reason, we all get confused between them, perhaps because of of the -quat. That's like getting confused between a jogger and a booger. Man, those suffixes get you every time! A kumquat is a citrus fruit. If you open it to find that it's in sections and tastes like citrus, you've got a kumquat, whereas if it has more peachlike flesh and big beautiful deep-brown seeds, then it's a loquat.
Several houses in our neighborhood have them. We've availed ourselves quite a bit in the last few days, comparing the various flavors (Neighbor A's are tart; Neighbor B's are juicier and sweeter). All this has gotten me wondering why on earth we don't see them in stores. They're only in neighbors' yards. In fact, I can't think of another common fruit that you can't get in the average supermarket; maybe it's available at some supermarket somewhere, but I've never seen it happen. Who knows why this is so. But I must say that beyond the sheer sensual pleasure of biting into one and tasting the sweet-tart flavor I so associate with my childhood, when Bart Morgan and I used to eat them by the dozen on the walk home from school, there's the poetic joy I find in the fact that such a pleasure is completely uncommodified. You can't buy them; you can't sell them; you can only find them and enjoy them. That's an important experience.
First, a word on kumquats and loquats. For some reason, we all get confused between them, perhaps because of of the -quat. That's like getting confused between a jogger and a booger. Man, those suffixes get you every time! A kumquat is a citrus fruit. If you open it to find that it's in sections and tastes like citrus, you've got a kumquat, whereas if it has more peachlike flesh and big beautiful deep-brown seeds, then it's a loquat.
Several houses in our neighborhood have them. We've availed ourselves quite a bit in the last few days, comparing the various flavors (Neighbor A's are tart; Neighbor B's are juicier and sweeter). All this has gotten me wondering why on earth we don't see them in stores. They're only in neighbors' yards. In fact, I can't think of another common fruit that you can't get in the average supermarket; maybe it's available at some supermarket somewhere, but I've never seen it happen. Who knows why this is so. But I must say that beyond the sheer sensual pleasure of biting into one and tasting the sweet-tart flavor I so associate with my childhood, when Bart Morgan and I used to eat them by the dozen on the walk home from school, there's the poetic joy I find in the fact that such a pleasure is completely uncommodified. You can't buy them; you can't sell them; you can only find them and enjoy them. That's an important experience.
Comments
Cantonese — aha, that's why it's "-quat," right? Mandarin would never have syllable that ends in t.
I miss making music with you!!! Let's do something soon.