Since I write about chocolate I tend to see it everywhere. A couple of those places were unexpected to me: produce bins and plant nurseries. I couldn’t resist trying some fruits and vegetables with chocolate in the name that are not cacao. Would they taste like chocolate? Look like chocolate? Feel like chocolate?
Chocolate persimmons
One of the joys of moving to California was discovering persimmons. Cacaopod and I first moved to SF’s Richmond District and would explore the neighborhood produce markets to find new-to-us fruits and veg to try. The first round of persimmons was a miss — a firm Hachiya so astringent it gave us total dry mouth.
Friends pointed us in the right direction — Fuyus. Save the Hachiya for cooking and baking, Fuyus are sweet when crunchy and they’re delicious.
So when I saw what looked like a Fuyu but labeled Chocolate Persimmon I had to try it. Chocolate? Persimmon? I like them both! Together they could be awesome!
On the outside the chocolate persimmon resembled a Fuyu but the flesh inside was brownish orange — not very appetizing looking. To me it looked like it was rotten. (I forgot to take a pic so here’s one I found on the Internet.) It also had more seeds than a typical Fuyu which isn’t a big deal but not an improvement on the almost seedless Fuyu.
While the persimmon looked like it was going bad, it didn’t smell bad so I tried it. It was juicier than a Fuyu but not as crisp tasting. It tasted sweet, vaguely persimmon, and something else — but definitely not chocolate.
I prefer Fuyus but chocolate persimmons are good too — just make sure it’s fully ripe. I bought several at the time and after the first one that looked past its prime I tried a firmer one — and got that astringent mouth pucker like it was an unripe Hachiya.
Chocolate Sprinkles Tomatoes
The chocolate persimmon experience reminded me of our recent chocolate vegetable experience.
In our backyard we have 3 veggies boxes — so not a lot of growing space. I have to be careful because I always want to plant more than we have space for. To simplify things we always buy 3 starter plants — a zucchini, a cherry tomato, and a Roma tomato — plants we know will grow in our small space with limited sunshine. One starter per box, then I fill in the space with things that are easy to grow from seeds — lettuce, radishes, herbs, peas, and beans.
We get our starters from the same nursery every year — it’s a small one that only sells to the public a few times a year at their space in the parking lot of the old West Oakland train terminal. We like the ritual of riding the bus downtown and walking through West Oakland to the nursery, then reversing course to take our starters home.
Last year on our annual pilgrimage to the train station I spotted a plant that said Chocolate Sprinkles so I bent the rules — because of course, chocolate! — and we ended up taking 4 starters home.
The Chocolate Sprinkles tomato plant grew spectacularly filling a single planter box all by itself and producing lots of little tomatoes. And the tomatoes were kinda cute with their pointed ends — but they didn’t get as sweet as our Sweet 100s cherry tomatoes. And something about the color — kind of a dull striped orange — just wasn’t as appetizing. Plus it was hard to know when they were ripe because they never looked ripe to us.
So this year when we do our annual pilgrimage I’m going to be good. Three starters, no chocolate.
Chocolate navel oranges
Finally a chocolate fruit I can recommend —chocolate oranges! Not the Terry’s Chocolate Orange that people get at Christmas time but real oranges.
I saw this bin full of big oranges with mottled olive green and dark orange peels at Berkeley Bowl — our local grocery store known for its extensive range of produce — labeled chocolate navel oranges. Having been burnt twice I bought a single orange to try.
The peel and pith were pretty thick but once inside, it looked like a regular navel orange — the opposite of my chocolate persimmon experience which looked better on the outside. The pulp was sweet, soft, and juicy. It’s a tasty orange with a flavor that made me think of Tang — which I haven’t thought about — much less tasted — in decades.
So another not-chocolate-tasting-but-chocolate-named fruit. And they are more expensive than regular navel oranges —they were even more expensive than my favorites, Cara Cara navel oranges — but they are tasty. I would buy them again.
Look what else I found at Berkeley Bowl:
Cacao pods!
The bin label said they’re from Ecuador but otherwise no info on type of cacao or where in Ecuador. I think it’s kind of adorable tho’: Fresh Cocoa Fruit!
And yeah I didn’t buy it — I am no chocolate maker, heck, I’m not even a cook, what would I do with such a thing? And did you see the price on that? $12.49 a pound. Hard pass.
But if you want to get creative with a chocolate fruit, this might be for you. And if you handle it right, it will taste like chocolate!
As for me, I will stick with my Tang-tinged chocolate navels.
But the question remains: If they don’t taste like chocolate, look like chocolate, or feel like chocolate, why the name?
My hypothesis is: Marketing. These are probably all hybrids that somebody created. And while they are perfectly edible they don’t look tasty so to sell them the creators gave them a name with built-in hype. Like how “cozy” is realtor-speak for a small house or I’m “vertically challenged,” naming these awkwardly colored fruits and vegetables “chocolate” might entice someone to buy and try.
Worked on me! (And probably will in the future…)
