Cherimoya: Animal or Vegetable?

I indulged myself in California smugness recently when I bought a cherimoya at the farmers market. Only in our geographically diverse state do we enjoy such a vast selection of fruit, from tropical cherimoyas to mountain-loving pears.

The farmer had brought them up from Santa Barbara, where it’s warm enough to cultivate the fruit. Cherimoyas originated in the mid-elevation Andes; they can’t handle temperatures much below freezing, but they don’t like sultry weather either. They prefer the climate in Southern California, like so many humans.

With its round shape and markings reminiscent of scales, the cherimoya looks like a pangolin, a mammal related to the anteater, especially when it’s curled into a defensive position or taking a nap. The pangolin wouldn’t eat a cherimoya if it found one, and not because it might think the fruit was Uncle Frank: The pangolin eats insects.

California cherimoyas are in season in the spring. You’ll likely find them when they’re firm: Two or three days at room temperature softens them to their delicious, most edible state, when the fruit feels like a ripe avocado. If you want to keep them longer, store them in the fridge while they’re still hard.

Choose cherimoyas that are green rather than brown, have no cracks and are not overly soft. Cut the cherimoya in half and scoop out the flesh, avoiding the seeds, which release a poison when they’re crushed. I ate my first cherimoya with a spoon, right out of its own skin-bowl. It tasted a little like a pear with a tropical perfume.

A subsequent cherimoya became an agua fresca:

Flesh from 1 cherimoya

Juice from half a lime

2 teaspoons sugar

1/2 cup crushed ice

1/2 cup water

Blend until smooth.