Feijoa

Happiness in a little green egg

During this season (autumn to you misguided northern hemisphere dwellers), the mood of New Zealanders up and down the country improves immeasurably as thousands upon thousands of unassuming, green, egg-sized fruits drop ripe and luscious to the ground with the promise of happiness and joy for whoever gets there first.

If we’re quick enough, it’ll be a human and not a possum or a pukeko, two infinitely rapacious creatures in God’s menagerie that he conjured up in what was clearly an off day. No disrespect intended.

While New Zealand readers will need no introduction to feijoas, most of my other readers will. Either way, the word’s history is intriguing and - I'm willing to bet - likely to be news to you, whatever part of the world you’re from.

First things first - the feijoa is a South American fruit whose unpromising outward appearance completely belies the wondrous tropical flavours and within. It's hugely popular in New Zealand where any decent-sized garden is likely to have a few trees growing. In mid-autumn (which we're enjoying now after a miserable summer that the Boss undoubtedly cooked up in the same mood they were in when inventing possums and pukekos), lawns, paths and driveways end up covered in the ripe fruit.

But enough of that; let's get into some etymology here.

At first glance, you might assume that feijoa is a Spanish/South American word, and you'd be close; it owes its existence to the Portuguese naturalist João da Silva Feijó. Feijó's birth name was actually Barbosa, but he adopted his new name in honour of the Spanish philosopher Benito Jerónimo Feijoo, born a century earlier in 1676.

Feijoo himself was an interesting figure. A monk, he was one of the leaders of Spain's Age of Enlightenment and worked tirelessly to encourage scientific versus supersitious thought. Given his position, that was both a radical and brave move which earned him the respect of subsequent generations of naturalists, as they were called then - the word scientist wasn't adopted until the mid-1800s.

In our age, it’s easy to assume that scientific thinking is uncontroversial. If you want to understand the world, you observe how it behaves, formulate a hypothesis based on your observation, test that hypothesis, and let the results dictate what you then suppose to be an accurate picture of reality.

What could be less contentious than that?

Until the surprisingly recent past, what was way less contentious - not to mention safer - was to trust scripture (or the official interpretation of scripture) rather than one’s own eyes.

Feijoo was born into an age of intellectual turmoil. Isaac Newton’s Principia Mathematica, arguably the greatest scientific work in history, was published 21 years after his birth to a rapturous reception. Yet just six years later on the other side of the Atlantic, 19 people were executed during the Salem witch trials, 11 more found guilty of witchcraft, and dozens more accused.

The Spanish Inquisition, not known for its openness to new ideas, was itself not formally abolished until 1834. Feijoo may not have been a lone voice in the wilderness, but as a Catholic monk neither was he surrounded entirely by friends.

Continuing in a religious vein, the feijoa is a member of the myrtle family which includes eucalyptus, mangroves, leptospermum (or, as New Zealanders know it, manuka or tea tree), and about 5500 other species.

The word myrtle is closely reated to myrrh, which comes to us from both Hebrew (mor) and Arabic (murr) - making it a word of ancient provenance indeed. One of the gifts carried by the Magi to the baby Jesus, myrrh is a bitter resin that's been used for centuries in perfumes, incense and medicine. One of my enduring childhood memories is of being enveloped in incense during Easter celebrations at our church. It was a heady experience - the kind that makes believers out of sceptics. I don't know whether myrrh featured in the formulation - it's just one of many possible aromatics in incense - but if it did then I can tell you this: myrrh's okay by me.

And so are feijoas. In fact, for someone who stopped believing many years ago, they may be the closest thing to a religious experience that I will now ever have.

One thing I have noticed, however, is that love of feijoas is far from universal. In fact, it’s my observation that almost every English person who tries them finds them disgustingly floral.

I have a hypothesis as to why that’s so, and I’m afraid it doesn’t reflect well on my English friends. Nonetheless, until my hypothesis is proven wrong under strict conditions, I’m sticking to it like it’s written in scripture. Science be damned.

Bits and specious

Incense was big business in ancient times. So much so that between the 7th and 2nd centuries BC, a major trading route was called - wait for it - the Incense Route. It stretched from the Mediterranean through Egypt and into Africa in one direction, and through Arabia, India and beyond in the other. 

You've probably seen this epic Post-It note battle, but if not here you go. Simply brilliant.

Scientists have estimated that our galaxy has the mass of 700 billion suns. Phew!

Quote of the week

I like fruit baskets because it gives you the ability to mail someone a piece of fruit without appearing insane. Like, if someone just mailed you an apple you'd be like "huh? What the hell is this?" But if it's in a fruit basket you're like, "this is nice!"
Demetri Martin