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Brother, can you spare a loquat?

By Romina Cleary

April 17, 2006

San Diego--Loquat season has arrived in San Diego. Right now, the fruit is ripe and ready to eat—bulbous, sweet and juicy. My advice is for you to grab some now, before the birds get to them.

What’s a loquat? (It’s not a kumquat.)

Please do not mention kumquats when somebody talks to you about a loquat. By all means, correctly identify the fruit before discussing it.

Too many times I’ve mentioned loquats to friends and co-workers to hear them respond, “Oh, you mean kumquats?”

“No, I do not.”

Kumquats, on the other hand, hang alongside oranges, tangerines and mandarins as members of the citrus family. They’re fleshy and covered by a fibrous, difficult to penetrate leather-like rind. Size-wise, kumquats are midgets in comparison to loquats, and they aren’t called Japanese plums.

I asked friends and co-workers if they knew loquats in San Diego were ripe and ready to be eaten. One co-worker said, “Oh, you mean kumquats?”

“No, I do not.”

Another colleague asked to see a picture of the loquats, “Oh, I’ve seen those. You can eat them? They aren’t poisonous?”

Loquats are edible, rich with nutrients, such as vitamins A and B. They’re thirst quenching, edible and revitalizing.

Loquats came to my rescue one day when I nearly passed out on a 60-mile training ride (road bicycling). Parched and climbing yet another steep hill close to the middle of, I don’t know, the nowhere of Rancho San Diego, I saw what looked like a fire station. Great! Water break. Well, not really. The station was closed. Instead, I found a lone fruit-filled loquat tree at its perfect point of ripeness. I reached my hands and legs into the branches of this 15-foot high loquat tree and stuffed my face. Ahhh, what a relief.

One of my cycling pals had ridden back to find me plunged into the leaves of the tree and asked what in the world I was doing. Before I knew it, I was competing for loquats with four more hungry cyclists.

Where can a San Diegan find a loquat?

I’ve seen numerous loquat trees in older communities in San Diego, such as in the hills above Pacific Beach, in and around Mission Hills and Hillcrest. A number of groves in Valley Center try to make a profit raising loquats.

If you want to try loquats for free, stroll through Mission Hills and Hillcrest, where homeowners prefer to showcase their lush and gardens and greeneries. Try walking down Third Street in Hillcrest, south of Robinson and into Banker’s Hill. I suggest you peek over fences, walk through the courtyards of condo complexes, and look for loquat trees rooted on one piece of property while dropping fruit on to another.

Last weekend, my roommate and I walked through Mission Hills from Pringle, to Sunset, to Ft. Stockton toward the hospital. We walked past numerous loquat trees on Ft. Stockton. I feared Ft. Stockton security so I didn’t dare pick any there. Finally, when we made it to the bird streets, I spotted an abundance of loquats tempting me as they hovered over our sidewalk from the other side of a wooden fence. I reached my arms straight up as if to stretch, and grabbed an entire bundle of loquats, which I quickly stuffed in my face. Yeah! I suggest you try this. If you get caught, though, don’t blame me.

You can try paying for loquats at farmer’s markets. There are a number of loquat growers in Valley Center who bring their fruit to markets in Solana Beach, Hillcrest and La Jolla. See: http://where2eat.com/San_Diego_farmers_market_2.htm

What’s their deal?

As I already suggested, “Loquats are exotic.”

According to numerous news stories I reviewed, loquats were found growing in Southern China a very long time ago.

Later on, the loquat trees found themselves cultivated for market in Japan. From Japan, it’s been written, loquats were imported into the Mediterranean regions of Europe. Somehow, these loquats landed in Southern California.

Japanese plums: "hama," "kata," "biwa?"

You’d think you’d find “Japanese plums” at a Japanese grocery store.

To research this story, I stopped at Mitsuwa to purchase a few loquat products. I had heard of loquat syrup and the occasional loquat fruit juice. Mitsuwa, a Japanese grocery store off of Mercury Avenue in Kearny Mesa, is the Japanese grocery store in town. Since Japan has cultivated loquats for many years, I figured a Japanese store might carry them.

I walked down an aisle where various forms of canned “exotic” fruit arranged themselves nicely along the shelves. I asked a Japanese woman if she knew anything about loquats. “Hmm? Loquaah? I don’t know.”

I then said something about Japanese plums. “Ohh, ‘hama?’”

I responded excitedly, “Maybe. They’re yellow, right?” She replied, “Oh, no. Hama are red, not yellow. Sorry.”

What am I doing writing a news story about frickin’ loquats in San Diego? I thought, and headed for the exit.

But wait. I stopped and thought, Hmmm, look at the cute clean-cut bagger lifting grocery bags. Oh, and there’s that funky rock’n roll guy I saw looking at those Pocky chocolate sticks.

I could not quit so easily.

I walked toward the bagger, paused, and asked, “Do you know if you sell any loquat products here?”

Nicely enough, the bagger tried to give me an answer I wanted to hear—he had no idea what I was talking about. Speaking Japanese, he turned around to ask the bagger next to him if she knew what I was talking about. No answer.

Again, I mentioned Japanese plums. “Ohhhh, hama!” Nope.

I vaguely recalled reading something about loquats being named after a Japanese lute, maybe a “kata.”

I looked toward the bagger and his cashier, and said, “They look like a Japanese guitar-cello thing. You know, a pear-shaped string instrument. A ‘kata,’ maybe?”

The cashier looked at his bagger friend and laughed.

“Kata? Kaataa? Kata means shoulder.” They both laughed, in a nice way.

So, I gave up and left Mitsuwa with a smile on my face, at least somebody got a good laugh out of this random caper.

Then, heading back to my car, I passed by the rock’n roll guy from the cookie aisle.

He packed his groceries into his car with either his sister or his girlfriend waiting in the passenger’s seat. He asked with his Brit-Japanese accent, “Any luck?”

I told him the story about how I’ve been looking to get some loquat syrup (made that up). I looked at the woman in his car and smiled.

He asked for more information about the loquats. I told him that in America loquats are also referred to as Japanese plums.

“Hama?”

Then he said in his Brit-Japanese accent, “I know, you give me your cell phone number. I will go home to check my dictionary and I will call you.”

I pulled a piece of scrap paper out of my bag, scribbled out my and wrote the word “LOQUAT” in big letters. We reviewed my scribbling and went our separate ways.

Within 20 minutes of my returning home, the phone rang. With an upbeat almost I’ve hit the jackpot voice he introduced himself as Tetsuya from Mitsuwa grocery store and said, “I found it.”

“Excellent,” I responded “What is it?”

“It’s ‘biwa,’” he stated. “B-I-W-A.”

Ahhh, that was it—not ‘kata.’

I told Tatsuya why I was going around asking people about loquats. Actually, that’s a good question.

I asked him to share his thoughts about loquats and whether he could buy them in Japan.

He replied, “Can buy fresh in Japan. Not very popular.”

I asked why they weren’t popular. He couldn’t give me a straight answer. So I asked for his name again…. “Tatu, T-A-T-S-U.”

“What part of Japan are you from?”

He proudly replied, “Tokyo.”

He continued, “Everyone knows a ‘biwa.’ Some people like them, some people don’t.”

Okay. In Japan everyone knows a ‘biwa.’

Does everyone know a loquat in San Diego? I doubt it.

Spread the word. Some will like them, some will not. Just make sure you get to them before the birds, because they do like them.

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