Pummelos Are The New Grapefruit

A crusty old Kiwi once shared a bottle of wine with me at a UN compound on the edge of the Sahara outside Maidugari.

It was 1994, and he was working on an anti-desertification program. I was riding shotgun with a Danish cow insementator hellbent on improving the cattle stock of the Fulani. Erling was elbow deep in it all day and crashed shortly after dinner, leaving Neil and I to contemplate the darkness of a desert sky and a Bulgarian red.

It was an evening of unusual candor and openness between strangers, and we commiserated on our profound disillusionment with our jobs. "People often say travel broadens the mind", he said. "In actuality, it often reconfirms the prejudices". It was an offhand remark, but experience has tranformed it into an aphorism.

After a few drinks, he walked to his car and pulled out what seemed at first glance to be a volleyball. It was actually a pummelo; a gigantic think-skinned citrus fruit. After a day in the desert, its tart sweetness was mindblowing.

When I returned to Jos the next week, it was easy to find pummelos; they were readily available and inexpensive in season. I ate half sections every morning for two months--and than the season came to an abrupt end...Delerium tremens, I swear. The pummelos know how to work you like a dealer; they know they have to leave you wanting more at the end of the season. For me, that was Africa: abundance in profusion, or complete deprivation...I prowled the market looking for a good citrus score, only to settle for a half-dozen skanky tangerines.

Ten years later, I thought my days of riding the citrus dragon were over, but now the Pummelo has made its way to Canada. Pummelos are the new grapefruit, which leads me to another aphorism: "Every country or region has at least one crave food which is impossible to resist".