Strawberry Trees

This last summer, while walking nearly 200 miles in an effort to shore myself up physically, I had a goal to be able to identify (by common name) every tree in my 3-mile walking radius.

This is no small feat.  By volume I think I can identify about 80% of all trees here in my Laguna Springs "neighborhood," but those remaining 20% represent probably 40-50 different species that are going to take this amateur arboriculturist quite a while to identify.

However, along Franklin Boulevard, between Cosumnes River Drive and Laguna Blvd, I have been able to determine that many of the trees in the median are strawberry trees (Arbutus undeo) and, as timing would have it, are in season this very moment.  One can risk death or anatomical dismemberment by jaywalking across the 45MPH four-lane boulevard inhabited by 65MPH traveling vehicles and pick oneself enough fruit for a sumptuous repast.

OK...maybe not sumptuous.  Strawberry tree fruit, while vaguely resembling strawberries, are not even vaguely identical in flavor.  The tree unfortunately is poorly named.  Ohh!  Strawberries!  In November?  I can hardly wait!

This fruit, though, is compelling.  I've eaten several dozen and some are quite tasty.  Most of the berries do not have enough sugar content to enjoy them as we expect fruit to taste, but I suppose this could be rectified in the Insania kitchen.  The thing is, I cannot seem to be able to get through more than about a half dozen at any given time -- they just don't do it for me.

The photo above is characteristic of the fruit but are unripe specimens.  Pick berries that are very bright red and that will just fall off the peduncle as you so much as look at them.  The best ones are extremely soft and will bruise easily.  Indeed, bruise is not a correct description -- a really ripe fruit will virtually explode on contact.  The problem is, when it's prime picking time a thousand other fruits will have already fallen off the tree and you will have to mash your way through all those fallen heroes.  Very much like wading out to a duck blind, you will collect an awful lot of jam on your shoes.