KWBaker

Stretches of oak, hickory, and dogwood across the eastern half of the country hide a fruit that tastes more like a mango or a banana than the bittersweet blueberries or musky scuppernongs that grow nearby. Sticky and orange inside, the pawpaw is a cousin to the guanabana and cherimoya fruits sold on the street in more temperate parts of the world. Which is why it's strange that this fall, thousands of pawpaws will rot on forest floors for lack of curious foragers.

Pawpaw growing along the C&O Canal by Alice Crain under a Creative Commons Attribution 2.0

Andrew Moore ate his first pawpaw at the Ohio Pawpaw Festival in Albany, not too far from his hometown of Pittsburgh, but research trips for the new Pawpaw: In Search of America's Forgotten Fruit took him everywhere from Mississippi to North Carolina. We talked with him about the often-overlooked native fruit that might soon be on its way to a restaurant near you.

People say that the pawpaw tastes like everything from mango to banana to vanilla and pineapple. What do you think it tastes like?

The common description is that it tastes like a cross between a mango and a banana, and that’s a good one. But there is a great diversity in flavor. Sometimes you’ll eat one that tastes a lot like a melon, and other times you’ll taste coconut or vanilla. It’s mild when freshly picked, and then caramel flavors take over as it ripens.

What do you do with pawpaws?

I just eat them, for the most part. I keep them in the fridge, or on the counter if they need to ripen. Then I cut them open and scoop out the pulp like it’s custard in a cup. You don’t get access to many pawpaws unless you’re one of a lucky few, so you probably want to savor them fresh. However, I do make a pawpaw ice cream that wins even the skeptics over. A few of the more fun things I’ve seen people make are beer, brandy, cheesecake, crepes… But I think some of the best things are yet to come. It’s still new in our kitchens.

Author Andrew Moore. (Photo by Jonathan Yahalom)

Why do you think the pawpaw isn’t more mainstream?

Well, its shelf life is very short. But there are plenty of mainstream fruits that have a similar shelf life, and we still find ways to use them. Figs, for example. We make them work. The other short answer is that the cultures that came to this continent centuries ago had their own established agricultural systems and crops. Many of the native fruits and vegetables have been added slowly. Even the blueberry is only a hundred-year-old crop, in terms of widespread commercial cultivation. It could take a few breakthroughs like those the blueberry had to get the pawpaw to more people, but I do think it’s coming back. We let it go, and now we’re starting to pick it back up.

If we can’t find pawpaws in the woods, where can we buy them?

There’s a grower in Westminster, Maryland, who does mail order through a site called Earthy Delights. They aren’t cheap, but they’re worth it. A lot of the price is shipping.

Related:
Field Guide: Pawpaws
Pass the Pawpaws

Though they may not always be the most inviting places, swamps are as much a part of the iconic Southern landscape as pine forests and white sand beaches. Journalist and artist Alexandra Penney has been so captivated by them that she has spent the past nearly two decades photographing moss-draped cypress trees reflected in still waters throughout Louisiana, Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida.

Stephen C. Foster State Park near Fargo, Georgia. Photographs by Alexandra Penney

You may recognize one of Penney's creations before you recognize her name. She conceptualized the pink ribbon that is now the symbol of breast cancer awareness when she was the editor-in-chief of SELF magazine in the 1990s. After September 11, 2001, she decided to pursue art full time, and now works out of a New York studio.

In 2001, Penney began experimenting with a $25 digital camera that took low-resolution photos. She loved the fuzzy look of the resulting images and began digitally manipulating them to emphasize the swampy landscapes’ ephemeral nature.

“I work on each image for a week or more until it finally breaks down or fractures,” Penney explains. “The image resembles a swamp, but upon closer inspection, consists only of a complex pattern of digital dots, lines, and odd ziggurats. In other words, nature and tech come together in—I hope—interesting new ways within each picture.”

Her images will comprise the Fractured Botanicals solo exhibition that runs September 10 through October 17 at the Curator Gallery in New York.

We spoke with Penney about why she finds swamps so alluring.

Atchafalaya Basin near Lafayette, Louisiana.

What draws you to these locations?

I first came across the Southern swamps about fifteen years ago when my daughter-in-law, who is from New Orleans, organized a trip through the swamps for a family reunion. I thought they were magical from the first moment I laid eyes on them. I was captivated by ancient cypresses rooted in the stillness of the water and the grace of tall, magnificent trees whose branches were bent from the silvery moss. A few months ago, I actually returned to the original Louisiana swamps that I first visited so many years ago. And they—plus that fabulous Southern cuisine—lure me back.

You took more than a dozen road trips over the years. Anything especially memorable about those trips?

I’ve taken at least fifteen trips to the swamps, driving a beat-up old workhorse Mercedes station wagon. On some trips, I get pretty far off the beaten path so I look for knowledgeable park rangers, many of whom live in the swamps. When I tell them I want to shoot swamps, the rangers always ask the same thing: “What kinds of wildlife do you want to see?” When I tell them that I’m only interested in the beauty of the swamps themselves, they’re delighted. These passionate rangers love that I see the swamps as they do—not as just a place to spot alligators and osprey.

Corkscrew Sanctuary near Naples, Florida.

What is it about a swamp that is so captivating?

Swamps are gorgeous and mysterious at any time of day. They whisper of what prehistoric landscapes would look and sound like. I personally love late afternoon with its possibilities of lengthening shadows on the water. Sometimes the still water in the early morning contrasts with the chaos of the trees. But on my last trip, it was pouring rain and I shot hundreds of pictures; the ever-widening circles from drops on the water juxtaposed against the verticality of the trees was new to me.

I never go out looking for anything in particular because I like to leave myself open to what presents itself. But I am attracted to those elegant cypress trees. When I come across a grove of them, I take a great deal of time shooting and just sitting back in the skiff and treasuring them.

Why should people care about swamps in the South?

People often dismiss swamps as uninteresting wetlands. Swamps have so much to offer us aesthetically and much to teach us ecologically. They are teeming with life and loveliness. Many times I heard rangers say, “You’d better shoot this now, it may not be around next year.” The effects of climate change—droughts, floods—can wipe swamps out and we would be losing a great and important natural Southern heritage.

Okefenokee Swamp near Folkston, Georgia.