A jujube right off the tree
SUNNY YEUNG, team manager for the undefeated Blue Blazers under-8 soccer squad, was handing out shiny, mahogany red treats during pregame warmups.
“Have a date, Coach,” she said to me. “They’re from my tree.”
“These are jujubes,” I said, recognizing the golf-ball-sized fruits from one of my favorite patio plants. “Dates grow on palm trees, not tree trees.”
“They’re not dates?” she asked incredulously. “Then why do all the markets call them dates?”
Why, indeed.
Perhaps it’s all in the name. Mention “jujube,” and most folks think of crayon-colored candies, gelatinous blobs of sugar that would stick to the movie screen when thrown at bad guys. A candy and a weapon.
The botanical name of this mid-size, low-maintenance tree doesn’t help matters either. Ziziphus jujube, often called the Chinese date tree, is the fourth-to-last entry in the Sunset Western Garden Book, just ahead of Zoysia.
But let’s not dwell on what is. Let’s talk about what could be -- not to mention what to do now, as prime jujube planting season approaches.
THE jujube tree grows about 25 feet tall with a crown nearly 15 feet in diameter when mature (which, if planted today, would be 2036). Its size makes it one of the better specimens for a small yard with full sun. Branches droop gracefully, like a willow’s. Thorns are common, so don’t plan on putting a treehouse in it.
Jujubes are popular at the family-run Temple Garden Center in El Monte, where owner Wing Wong specializes in exotic fruit trees and fragrant flowering trees.
“Lots of people grow jujubes because it is so easy to bear fruit in this area,” he said. “We sell two varieties: Li, which is a bigger fruit, and Lang, which is crunchier.”
The spring flowers of all varieties are small, white and not particularly impressive. But then the branches begin to show the cherry-sized fruits, glossy green orbs that swing on thin stems like summertime Christmas ornaments.
What makes the jujube tree ideal for Southern California is its ability to thrive in the heat. Jujubes love our hot, dry summers. While everything else withers in the 100-degree-plus temperatures, the jujube stands stoic, its waxy lime-green leaves coolly reflecting the intense sunlight.
As the summer progresses, the fruits grow larger until they turn russet brown in early fall. Picked fresh from the tree and brushed clean on your shirt, they taste like a a combination of apples, dates and something you can’t put your finger on.
Dry them in the pantry for a few weeks, and the sugars will intensify until, yes, they do taste similar to Medjool dates, except that jujubes are crunchy.
Come fall, the tree’s leaves turn vermillion, and the jujube goes into winter dormancy, eventually dropping its leaves. Many trees will reveal odd-looking zigzag branches, a characteristic known as “contorted.” Some nurseries sell varieties bred to emphasize this trait.
A final benefit: Unlike other heat lovers such as bougainvillea, jujubes can take a fairly hard chill.
Convinced? Then follow Wong’s advice. “Dig a big hole,” he said. “Use lots of planting mix, so you will have good drainage. That’s all the jujube needs.”
The time to dig that big hole is soon, when the tree goes fully dormant. If your nursery doesn’t have the tree in stock, ask to order one. You also can prepare the bed where the tree will be planted.
The tree can be pruned while it’s dormant. Clear the thin inner branches and trim it elsewhere to create a sculpted beauty, or simply leave it to its own devices.
Although the tree is drought-tolerant, if you want ample fruit, you’ll need to give it ample water. Beyond these basic rules of care, the jujube requires little else because it is not plagued by local insect or disease.
“I figured if I was going to plant a tree, I should have something with fruit on it too,” Yeung said. “It’s such an easy tree, which is why we love it.” Even if it does have a screwball name.
