I ate my first sugar-apple (aka custard-apple, buddha fruit, sweetsop) while abroad in Hong Kong, where the alien creature appeared alongside more recognizable produce at the wet markets in Tai Po. Thanks to my fortuitous decision to blog about it, you can read more here. Its sweet fragrance and rich texture make it easy on the palate, and I am especially gratified at gnawing the flesh clean off the seeds and relishing the pristine smoothness on my tongue once it’s been unclothed. There are times when the fruit can be a little overwhelming (in the way a super-ripe banana can be), and it might be one of the last fruits you’d want to pick up on a bloody humid summer day. I haven’t seen one since my return to the New World, but recently sited mention of it in this short clip on seedless fruits. I’m not one to mull over the genetic disruption of ovule development in sugar-apples, but then again, I would not mind if custard-apples of the seedless sort never came about. That would take away much of the pleasure of eating them in the first place; gone would be those tiny triumphs, that visceral satisfaction of a polished seed just before I pop it out of my mouth.
And, just because it’s Friday, I youtube-d “never judge a book by its cover” and present to you the first search result, which encapsulates what that phrase is all about: