I invested £1 in a small pineapple at Sainsbury's more than a week ago. In the 18th century the wealthiest of the wealthy in this country actually rented out pineapples to the merely exceptionally well off, according to one account I heard raking in the equivalent in today's money of £6000 for doing so - the fruits forming the centrepieces of grand banquets before being returned to the ultra-grandees who were the only ones who got to taste the things then.
Pineapples were of course extremely scarce in England at that time - they could not be imported, as picked anywhere near ready they would rot long before any sailing ship made it to our shores. So they had to be grown in our temperate if frequently bloody miserable climate, requiring special skills, loads of labour, and a massive capital investment.
A fortnight ago I visited Tatton Park and went round the pinery there, rebuilt in 2007 on the footings of the mid-18th century original, and with the benefit of the architect Wyatt's plans. As anyone who has more than just dipped into this blog will know, I like growing stuff to eat - not really bothered with flowers (even the edible ones are not up to much). But I would take a lot of persuading to give pineapple growing a go.
The glasshouse is kept between 70 and 80 Fahrenheit, and with high humidity, both provided in part by rotting oak leaves, though hot-water pipes and steam blowers are used too. A lot of money on heating then, to produce about 300 fruits a year (cleverly spaced out over the months, not in one glut), but I salute the National Trust for reviving the art - rebuilding the pinery cost I believe £600,000.
My £1 bought a fruit that per the supermarket label would need eating before April 8th. We ate it last night, the 12th, when finally a leaf from the crown came away with a very sharp tug, the way to tell if it is ready for the plate. You can do clever things with peeling the bumpy exterior (two interlocking helices of eight and 13 bumps - nature is as they say wonderful, and the fact that those two numbers are part of the Fibonacci Sequence is intriguing if you like that sort of thing), but it is far easier just to saw off the skin, top and tail, then cut and core slices.
SC hates pineapple, so the Dear Leader and I got half each. What pudding could you possibly get that is so delicious for just 50p each? Don't say tinned pineapple, though that is pleasant in its way: there is a world of texture and taste between them.
No comments:
Post a Comment