Chirimoya

The chirimoya. You should try it. Mark Twain claimed it his favorite fruit. “Deliciousness itself,” he called it. White and creamy flesh melts on your tongue. Sweeter than bubblegum, so long as you don’t bite into the seeds. Dark and bitter daggers embedded in custard-like clouds. They will turn your stomach inside-out. Stay away from the seeds.

You can find them in abundance in the markets of Ecuador. It grows in the Andean highlands, toppling off of trees. This divine fruit, composed of 75% water and rich with Vitamins A and C, is great for the nervous system. The vendors will tell you how buena the chirimoya is, and you should listen. Buy three of them, share with your friends.

It can be as small as a fist or, if you’re lucky, as big as a human head. When perfectly ripe, the juicy flesh glistens. But first, you have to break through the skin. You need a knife to penetrate the scaly green exterior. The skin is green and tough with little raised points. Rough to the touch, you would never anticipate the prize that lies within. It will turn your stomach inside-out. Do not eat the skin.

 Firm and tangy, the chirimoya is dangerously addictive. After your fourth chirimoya, your stomach will be bursting. Your taste buds will fire off into oblivion. The flavor will overwhelm you. Sweet as sin, this round dragon-fruit will ruin you.

Mark Twain himself overindulged. Rumor has it he cursed the chirimoya on his deathbed. The chirimoya is intense. Not for the faint of heart. Grab one, feel the strange fruit in your hands. Beware, and enjoy.