Feijoa season is never quite real until I have the fruit in one hand and a teaspoon in the other. That taste. There’s nothing like it. And the texture. And the memories.
Twitter told me back in March that the feijoas had arrived early this year and I’ve been noting disgruntled friends in other cities commiserating about the price of them in the supermarkets etc. But I have not seen any myself, until I stumbled across six trees in my neighbourhood, neglected, fruit unwanted.
The first ones I grabbed were ruined by fruit fly. Ugggh. The horror and the disappointment. But, unable to help myself, I went back and discovered good sized feijoas that were untouched.
Simultaneously, Word Porn (on Facebook) delivered up this unknown gem: Natsukashii. I have a suspicion that this translation from the Japanese may not be entirely accurate – but it is the most perfect description of what it is like to taste a feijoa again after half a lifetime (or even just 10 months), to be overcome with “euphoric nostalgia” for all those good times, just sitting and laughing and scooping. Absolutely among the best memories.
A special thanks to all you wonderful people who have signed up to follow this blog and are wondering (ahem) if anything actually happens around here. According to my WordPress statistics, YOU are all happening around here!
Recipes to follow.