Picking Greengages

I have spoken on here before of the backstory of the mother’s favourite plant, which you may read about here if you so fancy, the beloved greengage tree.  Well not so beloved now!  It has fallen significantly out of favour this year for producing an undoubtably large but unfortunately scabby looking crop.  We got the usual pounds of fruit but they were all intent on rotting.

I must have taken this photo on the most beautiful summers day, that blue sky is real

Despite the mother’s initial fears that fertilisation had not occurred, the branches were laden with swelling greengages, then many dropped off and the rest ripened at break neck speed and then were desperately trying to rot while still on the tree.  She couldn’t get them off fast enough.  Luckily I managed to not be roped into either being sent up the ladder or stuck at the bottom with a container.  I must have conveniently made myself scarce at that point. 

There is a little leakage on the left!

Things did not improve.  The first batch picked were riddled with caterpillars and horrified, the mother tossed the lot although I don’t exactly blame her.  Nobody wants little friends in their fruit.  She had to be convinced to pick and keep the rest of the greengages but where as normally she is thrilled with the mountainous heaps of green in tubs all around the kitchen, this year she sulked about, eyeing each plum with terrible suspicion.   

The scabbiest looking greengages you have ever seen, not beauties.  If greengages were blue they would be like little worlds

 

A little leakage of the juice which has gone hard like glass

One of my favourite things about greengages is when the skin splits and you get a little eruption of the sugary juice from inside seep out, a little like blood from a wound, or sap from a rubber plant to be less disgusting.  This hardens into effectively crystallised sugar that is completely clear and rather beautiful.

One perfect greengage

After rummaging for quite a time through the mounds and getting considerably sticky in the process, I finally found an absolute perfect one amongst all the brown scabby skins and gentle rot.  I love a good greengage; they have the same appeal as apricots, gentle fuzzy to the touch.  I can’t resist picking them up for a little stroke, what a weirdo.  We did manage to salvage the situation and put the greengages to good use in jam but next year the tree needs to buck up it’s ideas and return to form.