GONE are the days of monotonous fruit choice at the local grocer. In addition to your standard varieties of apples, oranges and bananas, an entire subset of genetically engineered stone fruits has emerged as the next wave in produce, as Chip Brantley realised when he first encountered the pluot – ¾ plum, ¼ apricot – at a Los Angeles farmer’s market. Brantley was so captivated by its taste that he dropped everything and set out to investigate what he believed to be the perfect fruit.
Brantley’s search led him to central California’s San Joaquin valley, home to roughly 90 per cent of the world’s commercial stone fruit crops. The San Joaquin valley is a testament to our ability to conquer nature for human consumption. Larger than several US states, the valley is a naturally inhospitable and barren area that has been irrigated and cultivated so that it now accounts for one-sixth of the total agricultural harvest in the US.
Amid this wellspring of production is a farm owned by , widely accepted as the father of hybrid fruit. Despite the ominous imagery associated with genetically engineered foods, Brantley finds that Zaiger’s methods are more trial and error than Frankenfruit engineering.
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The process by which fruit is hybridised requires painstaking effort. In plums, for example, the pre-flowering buds of one variety must be crushed, dried and hand brushed onto the pistil and stigma of the second variety for maximal pollination. This process is repeated on a mass scale, and through generations of harvesting and blending existent hybrids, “perfect” fruits emerge. The hard work doesn’t stop when a “keeper” is brought to fruition, though, as the resulting crops must be protected from the elements, as insects, weather and pollution pose a constant threat.
Though the pluot takes centre stage, much of the book focuses on the supply and demand of the fruit trade, and the impact it has on the people who cross its path. Despite the San Joaquin’s vast agricultural inventory, it remains an area mired in abject poverty. The valley’s farms are not owned by bio-agricultural superpowers; they are family businesses steeped in tradition and with a fierce connection to the land.
A history of intense competition and the complete unpredictability of industrial agriculture provides a bleak landscape from which these wonder fruits emerge. Post harvest, the fruit becomes a hotly sought-after commodity, with vicious bidding wars, smuggling and high-powered marketing converging to put a Dinosaur Egg fruit, Dapple Dandy or Black Velvet on a grocer’s shelf.
You may not find yourself as swept away by the pluot as Brantley was, but you are sure to look at things differently on your next trip to the produce aisle.
Bloomsbury