Thursday, March 08, 2007 Goodwill from the Backyard
VERY sweet, they taste like honey. Quite smooth, they glide on the tongue. Each year, starting in late November till just when about summer announces its arrival; we have these fruits that very few can resist.
Even with a single tree, sacks upon sacks of the fruit are brought down in one season. There was even an exceptionally good year when the branches of the tree almost broke from the weight of its own fruits. Now, that's what is called bountiful!
The chico tree is one of what I would call migrant plants. They are native to the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico. They seem to have been introduced early in the country.
According to Doreen Fernandez, the Philippine name is from the contraction of the Spanish chico zapote, which in turn is from the Nahuatl xicotzapotl.
Although Fernandez mentions four varieties or cultivars in Tikim, only two are commonly known to the public, especially in Pampanga. These more common varieties are Ponderosa, which are large and juicy but have a coarse and grainy texture, and pineras, which are small and sweet but not as juicy.
Our tree has a long and interesting history. It was a cutting that came to our yard after the Second World War. One of my uncles, who was then a student at the University of the Philippines Los Baños (UPLB), smuggled it home because it was supposed to be special, a hybrid of Ponderosa and pineras.
True enough, it bore big fruits that are not only sweet and juicy but with smooth flesh as well. It also had a seed or two to a fruit, unlike others that could have as many as six or even a dozen for the bigger varieties.
Each year, on fruiting season, my grandmother would have a list of neighbors, relatives and friends who would be given their "rasyon" of the fruits. As soon as the fruits are picked, we children would be assigned to scrub (manisis) the scruffy skin and then air them to dry.
In a day or so, as soon as we can smell the sweet scent wafting in the air, we would take out my grandmother's list and bag the fruits, by tens usually. However, I would add a few more to the "rasyon" of favorite relatives and friends, hehehe!
It is this practice, which has made our neighbors and family friends look forward to chico season. Someone even said she will forget her mother-in-law with a taste of the fruit. Tsk... tsk... If they were for sale, I am certain we would have a lot of pre-orders and we would make serious money on chico season.
But then, selling the fruits was never an option. One of my uncles broached it to my grandmother one especially bountiful year. Lola was unconvinced. Sell the chicos? "E maliari. Mas maniaman ya ing salamat queng pera." That was the end of the discussion. Later on, Lola said the tree bears much fruit because it a lot of people enjoyed the harvest for free.
Two decades after Lola's passing, we have continued the practice. Each year, chicos would be aired in baskets on the kitchen floor -- waiting to be bagged and delivered to neighbors, relatives and friends. We have retained Lola's list and have added names to the list -- classmates, new friends, officemates and almost everyone in the family's social circle. The chico tree seems to know and obliges. Its branches seem to be forever bountiful.
