It’s the second in a series of posts in which I stand in judgment over miscellaneous fruits! This time I’m looking at the pluot, which I’m gonna have to do by memory, since I actually had the pluot a while before I started the series.
What is it? A fruit. Specifically, a hybrid between a plum and an apricot. But not just any hybrid between a plum and an apricot. Pluots are roughly 1/4 apricot and 3/4 plum. If you went another generation to make a 1/8 apricot-7/8 plum hybrid, it would be called a plunt. Messing around with genetics is going to lead to abominations.
What does it taste like? Depends. I had two of them. The first time didn’t taste like much except sort of crunch. Like you had what you thought was an apple but it turned out to be filled with jicama. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t ripe. The second one, almost a week later, was softer, and juicier, and sweeter, and a bit floral.
How should I use it? Eat it raw, carve into a Jack-o-Lantern at Halloween to make people think they’re in some weird parallel universe, serve whole in a pot pie, rub behind the ears as a natural and ineffective perfume, or save the stones and use in the world’s largest rain stick.
What should I be careful of? If you swallow the stone whole, within twelve hours a pluot tree will grow inside your esophagus. “Pluot” is technically a trademarked term, and you can make mostly-plum-with-a-bit-of-apricot hybrids that aren’t pluots, and if you do that but call them pluots then lawyers will eat your face. The inventor of the pluot is named “Chris” but prefers to be called “Floyd,” which is also the name of a pig you can win in football.
What are some fascinating facts, whether true or not? Pluots were born in California, in the wagon of a traveling show. France made the inventor a knight, or what would be a knight if they were the U.K., and since then he’s fled at the sight of enemies, cows, or shadows. Pluots were served to at the Last Supper, but nobody really liked them much. Pluots come in many colors, including clear. The American Pomological Society is the bestest Pomological Society in the history of Pomological Societies.
How would you rate it? On a scale of one to ten, I give the pluot an ophiuchus.