unobtrusive sign said RARE FRUIT AND SEED CO. He
pulled up in front of a.big two-story frame house
girdled by a wide porch. On the porch were two
chairs and a dog. The dog rose on its haunches and
nuzzled Maimon’s hand as he climbed out of the
truck. A .Labrador, heavy and stolid, seemingly unimpressed
by my presence. Its master petted it and
it went back to sleep.
“Come around to the back,” said Maimon. We
walked along the left side of the house. There was
an electrical junction box hanging from the rear
wall. He opened it, flicked a switch, and a series of
lights came on in sequence, as if choreographed.
What unfolded before my eyes was as textured
and verdant as a painting by Rousseau. A masterpiece
entitled Variations on the Theme of Green.
There were plants and trees everywhere, many
in bloom, all thick with foliage. The larger ones sat
in five and fifteen gallon containers, a few were
rooted in the rich dark soil. Smaller plants and
seedlings in peat pots rested on tables shielded by
canopies of mesh. Beyond the canopies were three
1EOOD-TEST 26
gtass greenhouses. The air was a cocktail of mulch
and nectar;
He gave me aguided tour. Initially I recognized
most of the species but found the varieties novel.
There were unusual strains of peach, nectarine,
apricot, plum, low-chill apples, and pears. Several
dozen fig trees in pots were lined up against a
fence. Maimon picked two figs from one of them,
handed one to me and popped the other in his
mouth. I’d never cared for raw figs but ate the fruit
to oblige him. I was glad I did.
-“What do you think?”
“Wonderful. Tastes like a dried fig.”
He was pleased.
“Celeste. Best taster by my standards, though-some
prefer Pasquale.”
It continued like that, Maimon pointing out choice
hybrids with unconcealed pride, sometimes stopping
to pick one and offer me a taste. His fruit was
unlike anything I’d found on the produce shelves,
larger, juicier, more vividly colored and intensely
flavored.
Finally we came to the exotic specimens. Many
were aflame with orchidlike blossoms in shades of
yellow, pink, scarlet, and mauve. Each group of
plants was accompanied by a wooden sign staked
into the ground. On the sign was. a color photograph
of fruit, flower, and leaf. Under the illustration
were botanical and common names in neatly
lettered text, along with geographic, horticultural,
and culinary details.
There were species with which I was vaguely
familiarmlitchies, unusual varieties of mango and
papaya, loquats, guavas, ahd passion fruits–and
‘many others I’d never known existedmsapotes, sap-
edillas, acerota cherries, jujubes, jaboticaba, tamarinds,
tree tomatoes.
One section was devoted to vines-,-grapes, kiwis,
raspberries hued from black to gold. In another,
stocked with rare citrus, I saw Chandler pommelos
three times the size of grapefruit and sugary sweet,
Mor°, Sanguinelli, and Tarocco blood oranges with
pulp and juice the color of burgundy wine, tangors,
limequats, sweet limes, and Buddha’s Finger cit*
rons resembling eight-digited human hands.
The greenhouses protected seedlings of the most
fragile plants in the collection, those Maimon had
obtained from young adventurers who explored the
remote tropical regions of the world for new species
of flora. By manipulating light, heat, and moisture
he’d constructed microclimates that assured high
success in propagation. He became animated as he
described his work, tossing out esoterica followed
by patient explanations.
Half of-the last greenhouse was given over to
stacks of carefully labeled boxes. On the table were
a postage meter, scissors, tape, and padded envelopes.
“Seeds,” he said. “The mainstay of my business.
I ship all over the world.”
He held open the door and took me to a duster of
small trees.
“Family aanonaceae.” He poked among the leaves
of the first tree and uncovered a large yellow-green
fruit covered with fleshy spines. “Annona mur/c,
the soursop. And this red one is Annona ret/cu/ata,
the custard apple, Lindstroms variety. There are
no frui on this one here, won’t be until August–
Anno.na squamosa, sweetsop or custard apple, seedless
Brazilian variety. And these,” he indicated half
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263-
a dozen trees with drooping, elliptical leaves, “are
the cherimoyas. Right now I’ve got several varieties.