09/15/2026
Have you ever eaten a pawpaw? I haven’t but need to find some!
If you ever ate one, you have never once been able to describe it to anybody who had not. 🍃 Custard, banana, mango, something. It grows wild in the creek bottoms of these mountains, it is the largest fruit native to this country, and most Americans will go their whole lives without tasting it.
The pawpaw ripens right now, these last two weeks of September, and it will not wait on you. A pawpaw goes from hard to perfect to gone in about three days. It bruises if you look at it wrong and it will not ship. That one fact is the entire reason you cannot buy one. It is not rare and it is not endangered. It is simply a fruit that refuses to be a commodity, so the grocery business gave up on it a hundred years ago and quietly wrote it out of the American diet.
Mountain families never wrote it out of anything. Children knew exactly which patch on which creek, and they knew the trick, which is that you do not pick a pawpaw. You take hold of the trunk and shake, and you keep whatever falls, because the tree will tell you what is ready better than your hands will. They came home in flour sacks and lard buckets. Most got eaten standing right there in the creek with the seeds spit into the water. What made it back to the house went into pawpaw bread, pawpaw pudding, and in some families a pawpaw pie that people still argue about at reunions. 🍂
Here is the part that ought to sit with us a little. The pawpaw was here long before any of our families were. Native peoples grew it, tended it and carried it, and there is good reason to think the patches are where they are partly because people put them there. Settlers ate it. The Lewis and Clark party lived on it for days when their provisions ran out. And then the country simply forgot it, not because it failed but because it could not be sold.
It never went anywhere. It is out there right now, back in the shade along the branch, dropping in the leaves.
Most people just never learned to look.