Toward a More Eatable Nectarine

Off the assembly line they roll in an ungodly din, one candy-apple red piece of fruit after another, each polished and gleaming and seemingly more perfect than the last.

As if newly painted by GM’s finest, they shine and catch the light as they rumble on their cushioned way from field bin to shipping box. Meet this year’s model in the nectarine industry.

You don’t have to spend much time in farm country to be reminded that what they’re growing here is not just food but product. This football field-sized packing shed in the middle of the southern San Joaquin Valley is as packed with computer-controlled Rube Goldberg-esque contraptions as any auto assembly line.

And like other manufacturers, nectarine farmers are constantly bringing out new models--in this case fruit varieties--trying to second-guess shoppers’ shifting desires.

Though we tend to think of nectarines as nectarines, to the farmer, shipper and produce department, it’s more complicated.

There were more than 80 major varieties of nectarines grown commercially last year, each coming into season for no more than 10 days to two weeks. And though they all may end up being sold under the label nectarine, each has its own taste, texture and appearance.

The quest for variety is of no small importance. California produces 90% to 95% of the nation’s nectarines. That’s a crop worth nearly $100 million in a good year. The Fresno District, a stretch of fertile bottom land comprising southern Fresno and northern Tulare counties, accounts for the lion’s share of the fruit--roughly 90%.

These flatlands have been farmed since they were settled in the mid-1800s. Small towns--once market centers--are scattered every seven or eight miles along the railroad track. That was about as far as someone could carry his crop, sell it and still get home in a day.

Today the railroads have been replaced by almost impossibly straight highways. As you roar down them, the radio stations offer a selection of modern country music, ‘70s-vintage heavy metal and Bo Gritz selling investments in gold.

Scattered along the side of the road, among the vineyards and orchards, are ‘60s brick ranch-style ramblers, along with the occasional Nouvelle Colonial stucco mansion. Here and there you can still spot old Plains-style farmhouses, some of them quite grand, given away by the telltale “tank house” out back that was originally used for storing water.

This is an area almost uniquely suited to the growing of nectarines. In the winter, the heavy cold air of the Sierra slides downhill to rest along the banks of the King River. While this phenomenon produces the area’s tule fog, infamous among drivers, it also gives the trees the chill they need to get their off-season rest. In the summer, the hot dry weather of the San Joaquin Valley is perfect for ripening fruit without the humidity that can encourage spoilage.

“Our winters may be pretty dreary for people--cold, wet and foggy--but that gives the trees the amount of cold they need to go dormant,” says Micky George, president of George Bros., a grower-packer-shipper now in its third generation. “The industry is based here for some pretty good reasons.”

George’s packing shed in the tiny town of Sultana--complete with photoelectric scanner and computer-operated sorter--is within half a mile of where his grandparents settled in 1879. This is not unusual; the Fresno District had established itself as the home of the nectarine as early as the 1880s, producing well more than half of the state’s crop even then.

You can think of the entire area as an extended factory for the production of nectarines. And just as in any other factory, there are constant product changes.

The fashion in fruit is as variable as that for cars and trucks. That’s especially true for nectarines. A variety from the ‘80s is considered an outright antique. In this topsy-turvy industry, none of the Top 5 sellers in 1995 was among the Top 5 in 1990.

LeRoy Giannini--one of the founders of the modern California nectarine industry--says he changes more than 20% to 30% of his nectarine orchards every year and he’s never repeated the same variety.

“By the time you get to the point you want to change [varieties], they’ve upgraded so much you just don’t go back to what you had,” the 77-year-old Giannini says. A small, quiet man, he runs the 100-year-old family business from a tiny pine-paneled office tucked in the corner of a cavernous modern packing shed.

In one corner, a file case is decorated with wooden busts of Indian chiefs and a couple of glass flasks holding preserved two-tailed lizards. On the walls hang pictures of Isola d’Elba, where his family originated, and the old home ranch his grandparents built in Kingsburg, 10 miles away. Alongside are plaques and color snapshots of various Little League teams he sponsors.

“There’s constant evolution in this business,” he says. “Varieties last, at the most, only 10 years. There’s only one variety we’re handling now that we were handling 10 years ago, and that’s Red Diamond.

“I remember when Fred Anderson developed that. He called me and said, ‘I think I’ve got a 40-year nectarine.’ I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about.”

The Red Diamond is now in its 21st year, which makes it something of a legend among nectarine growers. Consider that in its first year, 1975, by far the predominant variety was Early Sungrand, a variety that has dwindled to less than 0.5% of last year’s harvest.

These have been a couple of tumultuous decades in the orchards.

The state’s total nectarine production has roughly quadrupled in that time. The fruit is no longer merely the peach’s fuzz-less poor cousin (actually, they’re more like stepbrothers--peaches sometimes spring from nectarine pits, and vice versa). Today, roughly two-thirds as many nectarines are harvested as peaches. In the 1960s, that was more like one-quarter.

It’s romantic to think that older is always better when it comes to fruit varieties--and there is some evidence to that effect. But the truth is more complicated. As growers are quick to point out, it doesn’t matter how good the fruit tastes if it can’t survive the trip to market or if the grower can’t make enough money from selling it to stay afloat.

“There have been excellent flavored nectarines that are no longer in existence because they have other problems--not enough color, not enough handling quality, they don’t size well or the trees aren’t productive,” says Giannini.

“The old Le Grand is a great example. In its day, it was unbelievable. It was one of the best varieties of fruit. It pretty well started the modern nectarine industry. But it lacked color.”

Looks are still important, particularly color. White is big for ‘90s nectarines. Growers are seeing a gold rush in Asia, where fruits with pristine white meat are particularly prized.

As a result, plantings of white-fleshed nectarines zoomed 350% in the last three years. Nearly a third of all new nectarine trees planted last year were white-fleshed varieties.

Of course, white-fleshed nectarines are nothing new. All nectarines were white until plant geneticists bred in yellow to meet the demands of consumers, who at that time wanted nectarines to look more like peaches. Another problem with white nectarines was that they showed damage too easily.

“I still remember those little white-fleshed things,” says Giannini. “They were absolutely delicious, but you couldn’t carry them from the building to the road. They were like ice cream, they’d almost melt on you.”

Today’s white-fleshed varieties are bred to be firmer and more resistant to bruising, but after that initial wave of enthusiasm, growers are beginning to look at them with a cooler eye. Produce insiders find it interesting that Giannini--one of the largest nectarine growers--is staying out of the white-fleshed market.

As for those red-skinned Ruby Diamond nectarines we saw in the packing shed, red is definitely this year’s color, as witnessed by the demise of the Le Grand. Nectarines used to be prized for a golden skin tone; now people are buying red, equating it with ripeness. (In fact, the high-red blush on new nectarines makes it harder to tell when fruit is ready--the red comes on early, obscuring the tell-tale background color.)

And shoppers love red. There’s a story--perhaps apocryphal--about an experiment by the USDA. A tasting panel was given two nectarines--one a fairly tasteless red variety, the other a great-tasting gold. In discussion, they unanimously agreed the gold was better and that was the nectarine they would buy. Then, on the way out the door, they were offered bags of fruit as a thank-you. One bag held all gold fruit, the other all red. To a person, the panelists picked the red fruit to take home.

“Red pulls all the strings,” says Giannini. “Take Summer Grand. That’s a fruit with real good flavor but no color. It sells for $8 to $10 a box. Other varieties that might not taste quite as good but have good color sell for $12 to $14. What would you do?”

Crispness is also in. Where old nectarines were melting in texture, some of the new varieties are almost apple-like. Shapes are being played with, too. Growers would love to get rid of that little point at the base of a nectarine--it breaks easily, providing a starting point for spoilage.

And then, of course, there’s that elusive quality factor. Thanks to improvements in shipping and handling, today growers can pick fruit later than ever. The new California Well-Mature grading standard, which accounts for approximately 90% of the fruit harvested in the state, calls for picking only from three to five days before what would be considered completely ripe.

The mantra these days, in the somewhat odd locution of the produce industry, is that fruit has to “eat well.”

“There’s a lot more emphasis these days on eatability,” says George, negotiating the catwalk above the sorting lines in his packing shed. “We have had a problem in this industry in the past with an overemphasis on beauty and on shipability, and we had forgotten about taste.”

He stops and stares for a moment at the rows and rows of perfect red nectarines rolling past. “These days,” he shouts above the din, “we’ve got to have it all.”

PEACH AND BERRY SHORTCAKE

2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 tablespoons baking powder

1/4 cup sugar plus extra for whipping cream

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 cup cold butter, cut in small pieces

1 1/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons whipping cream

6 peaches

2 pints raspberries or boysenberries

Mix flour, salt, baking powder, 3 tablespoons sugar and cinnamon in large mixing bowl or food processor. Cut in butter until size of small peas. Add 3/4 cup whipping cream and mix just until stiff. Remove to floured work surface and knead 2 or 3 times until smooth.

Roll out into rectangle 1/2-inch thick and cut into 12 triangles. Place on baking sheet, brush with 2 tablespoons whipping cream and bake at 450 degrees until tops are lightly browned and shortcakes are set, about 10 minutes. Cool on rack.

Peel peaches by poaching briefly in boiling water, 30 seconds to 2 minutes (ripe peaches will take less time, firmer peaches more). Remove from hot water and place immediately in ice water bath to stop cooking. Peel should come off easily. If not, continue cooking. Take 2 ripest peaches and mash with fork in large bowl. Slice remaining peaches fairly thick (about 1/2-inch) into bowl. Add 1 tablespoon sugar and toss to mix well. Set aside to macerate.

When ready to serve, whip remaining 1/2 cup cream and sweeten to taste. Warm shortcakes briefly in 200-degree oven. Split in half. Place bottom half on serving plate and top with peach mixture. Scatter berries over top. Spoon whipped cream on top of shortcake with little more on side.

Makes 12 servings.

Each serving contains about:

288 calories; 347 mg sodium; 58 mg cholesterol; 18 grams fat; 29 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 1.57 grams fiber.

STONE FRUIT ICE CREAM

2 1/2 cups peeled, sliced peaches, plums or nectarines or combination

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup half and half

1 cup whipping cream

1/4 teaspoon almond extract

Combine peaches and 1/4 cup sugar in bowl and toss well to mix.

In separate bowl, combine remaining 1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar, milk, half and half, whipping cream and almond extract.

Freeze cream combination according to instructions provided with ice cream maker. When firm but not completely frozen, add fruit and finish freezing.

Makes 6 to 8 servings. Each of 8 servings contains about:

208 calories; 25 mg sodium; 48 mg cholesterol; 13 grams fat; 22 grams carbohydrates; 2 grams protein; 0.34 gram fiber.

PLUMS IN ALMOND CRUST (Le Croquant aux Prunes)

This is from “Simca’s Cuisine” by Simone Beck (Alfred Knopf, 1973).

ALMOND CRUST

1/2 cup blanched almonds, finely chopped

1/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup flour

Pinch salt

1/4 cup cold butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Mix almonds with sugar, flour and salt in food processor or with spoon. With food processor or pastry blender or two knives, cut in butter. Add vanilla. Do not moisten or overwork mixture; it should be crumbly. Set aside in cool place.

PLUMS

2 pounds plums

1/2 cup sugar

Juice of 1 lemon

Butter

Peel and pit plums and place in nonreactive saucepan with sugar and lemon juice. Let macerate for about 1 hour.

Remove plums to buttered 9-inch pie plate. Strain juice into small saucepan and reduce over medium heat to thick heavy syrup. Pour syrup over plums and let cool.

Spread half of almond crust over plums. Bake at 400 degrees until crust is golden and crunchy, about 15 to 20 minutes. Spread with remaining crust mixture, making dome in center, and return to oven until golden brown, about 15 to 20 minutes longer. Cool slightly before serving.

Makes 8 servings.

Each serving contains about:

272 calories; 92 mg sodium; 16 mg cholesterol; 11 grams fat; 42 grams carbohydrates; 4 grams protein; 0.87 gram fiber.

(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX / INFOGRAPHIC)

Precious Stones

What exactly is a stone fruit? It’s a drupe, a class of fruit in which the seed is protected by a thick shell, or stone. There are the obvious candidates: peaches, plums, nectarines and apricots. Crack the pit and you’ll find a little soft seed.

There are also fruits that you might not think of right off, like cherries and mangoes. And then there are those that probably wouldn’t occur to you at all: coconuts, walnuts, almonds and olives. Raspberries and blackberries are collections of individual drupes called aggregate fruits. But even though the large seed is surrounded by edible flesh, the avocado is not a stone fruit. The papery tissue surrounding the seed isn’t tough enough.