Writer: Mary Jane Miller
I want to taste a pawpaw.
For years I’ve heard about this mysterious Midwestern fruit with a tropical flavor, but I’ve never had the pleasure of tasting one. In pictures it looks a little like a small mango. I imagine the first taste: soft as custard, sweet and strange but with a touch of something familiar, like a mango crossed with a banana and a melon.
I first heard of them from my father-in-law, who told tales of pawpaws growing wild in Iowa wherever railroad workers ate the fruit and spit the seeds along the railway. The story is common but unproven. Some people think the tree’s proverbial roots are even deeper, first introduced to Iowa by Native Americans.
Either way, the pawpaw holds a distinction: It is the largest edible tree fruit native to the United States. And it grows in Iowa.
Pawpaws are impossibly perishable. They can be harvested only when fully ripe and have the shelf life of a ripe banana, so grocers have little interest in them.
Four years ago I planted three pawpaw trees of my own, hoping to establish a patch “way down yonder,” as the folk song goes, and finally taste the elusive fruit. The patch is a welcome addition to my yard and provides habitat for zebra swallowtail butterflies. They’re growing well, but still no flowers or fruit. It’s a lesson in patience I didn’t ask for but seem to be getting anyway.
In parts of Missouri, hunting for pawpaws is as popular as hunting for morel mushrooms. Pawpaws ripen from August through October and grow in rich soil in dense forest understories, often near creek bottoms. And it’s true: Some do grow wild along railroad tracks in eastern Iowa.
A few farmers grow them commercially here in Iowa, mostly on you-pick farms, like No Coast Farm near Indianola and Red Fern Farm near Wapello, south of Muscatine. Grade A Gardens sometimes sells them at their stand at the Downtown Farmers Market, but I have yet to catch them at the right moment.
In eastern Iowa, the team with Bur Oak Land Trust is working to put pawpaws in more backyards. They work with a native plant company that starts the pawpaws as seeds and sells the saplings. “We were excited to see the interest in native shrubs, so we developed a backyard biodiversity program for the Iowa City area that provides thousands of free native shrubs to residents as a way to increase early spring pollinator resources,” said Jason Taylor, Bur Oak’s executive director. “We are in the second year of that program, and it is very popular.”
Pawpaw fans say they’re best eaten fresh with a spoon, scooping around the fat, penny-sized seeds. I’ve heard the fruit also shines in no-bake desserts like puddings or blended into cocktails and smoothies. Heat changes the flavor and mutes its tropical notes, leaving behind a pleasant but blander taste that’s more like a banana.
They also show up on the menu at Harbinger. “Pawpaw is one of our favorite annual treats around here,” co-owner Joe Tripp said. “Usually around August or September we start seeing it pop up, and when we do, we buy all that we can.” The kitchen team turns the pulp into a bright, versatile pawpaw butter, and last year featured it in a tart with kumquat sorbet, black walnut streusel and an effervescent vinegar powder.
“Unfortunately, our larder is nearly empty,” Tripp said, “which means we’re really close to the growing season again.”
Research suggests that pawpaws contain compounds that help ward off cancer, although in large amounts, they can make some people ill — another reason to treat them as a seasonal pleasure, not a staple.
But that doesn’t seem to be my problem. First, I still need to taste one. Maybe this is my year. n
Contributing writer Mary Jane Miller has worked as a food writer, chef, cooking teacher and food scientist for various clients, including Pillsbury and the Food Network. She lives near Indianola, where her garden yields almost everything except pawpaws — so far.
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