Pickin鈥 up pawpaws: Meet the Midwestern 鈥渢ropical鈥 fruit that thrives in Southeast Nebraska
SOMEWHERE IN INDIAN CAVE STATE PARK 鈥 I鈥檝e promised not to tell you where exactly I am.
That鈥檚 how protective hunters of this elusive fruit can be.
All you really need to know, all you can know, is that I had to duck under branches and high-step through grass and vines to get to this sunken patch of trees in this state park near Brownville.
I give the ground a scan 鈥 my eyes catch seeds strewn in the dirt; pulverized browning peels, clues that tell me raccoons, possums or deer beat me here.
Then, I look up and spot what I came here for.
Behold, the pawpaw.
The oblong pale green fruit hangs high up above me, shrouded in a lush canopy of big droopy leaves.
I give the tree鈥檚 thin trunk a gentle shake 鈥 not too hard, you don鈥檛 want a pawpaw to fall to the ground if it鈥檚 not ready.
Two fruits, smooth and green with a brush of yellow and flecks of brown, plunk onto the ground.
The prairie banana, the hillbilly mango, the Husker banana 鈥 the pawpaw goes by many names. And while it looks and tastes like it should be growing in the tropics, it鈥檚 actually the largest fruit native to North America. Its native habitat extends from the east coast into Kansas, as far north as Michigan and down into Louisiana.
And along the banks of the Missouri River, the pawpaw found fertile land to flourish in the southeast corner of Nebraska, where I find myself craning my neck up at the fruits I can鈥檛 stop talking about.
Right now, we鈥檙e in the midst of pawpaw season 鈥 the fleeting window of time in September and October when ripe pawpaws start to fall from trees. And every year, the pawpaw鈥檚 most ardent fans find ways to get their hands on the beloved fruit, whether it鈥檚 by foraging, sourcing them from someone with a tree or sometimes even growing their own.
鈥淚t is kind of like a certain horticultural fever that a person can get,鈥 said Brad Kindler, sustainable landscape specialist with the Nebraska Forest Service. 鈥淭hey鈥檙e delicious, they鈥檙e exotic, they鈥檙e beautiful.鈥
My own horticultural pawpaw fever started as an accident. On a hike through Indian Cave last year, a friend stepped on one of the bulbous fruits scattered along the trail. Golden goop squished out from under her hiking boot.
Later, we realized we鈥檇 been hiking under cover of pawpaw trees, and that we could have eaten the fruits that littered the ground.
I left that camping trip with a mission: to forage and taste a pawpaw. For journalism, of course.
The pawpaw has a long history in America. Thomas Jefferson was so enchanted that he grew them at Monticello, and shipped seeds to friends in France. George Washington was said to have preferred them cold for dessert. Lewis and Clark ate them for days when supplies ran low. Native American tribes would eat the fruit, and then use the leaves for their medicinal anti-inflammatory properties and the bark to make rope and baskets.
The pawpaw isn鈥檛 pollinated by bees, but by flies 鈥 its small red flowers are meant to mimic meat. Its skin and large seeds are toxic, but the inside is like a custard you can scoop out with a spoon.
Today, you won鈥檛 find pawpaws in stores. It鈥檚 a fragile fruit that bruises easily and goes bad in a matter of days. There are growers and researchers trying to 鈥渄omesticate鈥 the pawpaw to have a longer shelf life, grow with smaller seeds, and be easier to harvest, Kindler said.
Kentucky State University has had a dedicated pawpaw research program since 1990, developing the pawpaw as a commercial crop. At the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, pawpaw trees were planted on East Campus as part of a national study on pawpaw growth throughout the plant鈥檚 native region.
But overall, the pawpaw is still a native fruit that鈥檚 remained untamed by commercialization.
Its Nebraska native region is limited to four counties: Douglas, Otoe, Nemaha and Richardson. Any tree you find outside of that region was likely planted by someone, like the trees planted on UNL鈥檚 East Campus and the University of Nebraska Medical Center, Kindler said.
鈥淚f you go to the next county north, you won鈥檛 find pawpaws,鈥 said Dan Kostka, who grows a small pawpaw orchard on his property near Nebraska City. 鈥淚f you go to the next county west, you won鈥檛 find pawpaws.鈥
Kostka, a Minnesota native, actually moved to Nebraska because of his undying love for pawpaws. Minnesota鈥檚 harsh winters made it difficult to grow them. He was left driving six hours to a grower in southeast Iowa in pursuit of the fruit he adores.
鈥淗ow can I improve this?鈥 Kostka thought. 鈥淚 knew I had to move to grow pawpaws 鈥 I had to move south.鈥
The retired mechanical engineer ended up outside Nebraska City. He only knew two people when he moved here in 2017 鈥 tree growers he鈥檇 met through the horticulture world.
He鈥檚 been tending to his orchard since. This year, for the first time, he grew a pawpaw crop big enough to sell. He won鈥檛 say how big his orchard is, or the number of trees he has planted. And there are certain things he doesn鈥檛 want other growers to know 鈥 like what cultivars of pawpaw he鈥檚 growing, or his specific techniques.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I have any secrets. But I operate on need-to-know,鈥 Kostka said. 鈥淏efore I cash in my chips and am plowed under in the pawpaw patch, I want to make sure that everything I know, at least two other people know.鈥
He鈥檚 not the only slightly obsessed pawpaw fanatic keeping fruit secrets close to his chest. Like the foragers who scavenge for morel mushrooms, pawpaw devotees can guard their go-to spots like gold. An Omaha-area forager only shared the coordinates of his three preferred Indian Cave pawpaw patches if I promised to keep the locations secret. He kept his fourth and favorite foraging spot to himself.
鈥淢orel mushrooms, favorite fishing holes, it鈥檚 all the same thing,鈥 Kostka said. 鈥淲hen people become obsessed with something, they become protective. It鈥檚 human nature.鈥
Kostka鈥檚 pawpaw obsession started in the '90s, when he tried his first wild pawpaw in southeast Iowa. He pushed his thumbs into the fruit鈥檚 soft skin and cracked it open.
鈥淚 was already excited because of what my nose was smelling,鈥 he said. 鈥淏oom! I was smitten. My life is changed.鈥
The taste of a pawpaw is hard to describe. And you鈥檒l get a different answer depending on who you ask, and what specific fruit they鈥檙e eating.
鈥... Ripe is sort of a broad term,鈥 said Timothy Battafarano, whose pawpaw trees produced fruit for the first time this year. 鈥淪ome people like bananas when they鈥檙e almost green, and some people like bananas when they have brown spots on them.鈥
To Kindler, it鈥檚 like a mix between vanilla and coconut custard 鈥 a description that had me dying to try one.
Kostka picks up caramel. The best fruits, he said, have a coffee note.
Battafarano tastes papaya, with a hint of pineapple and sometimes bubblegum.
In the Flatwater Free Press office, my coworkers took a taste test. Some of the reviews: It had the texture of a mango that鈥檚 been sitting out in the sun. A caramel-y taste. Like if you mixed guava, papaya and mango all together. The smell reminded my coworkers of mangos, peaches, bananas and pineapples. The taste brought a tropical Starburst to mind.
And my favorite description: 鈥淚t鈥檚 like a delicious shampoo.鈥
My own take? I鈥檝e learned that I prefer them riper. A less ripe pawpaw has a fragrance that鈥檚 a bit too sickly sweet for my palate. I enjoy the soft, custardy texture. And flavorwise, I pick up vanilla, caramel and something tropical that I can鈥檛 quite put my finger on.
But truly, it鈥檚 like nothing I鈥檝e ever tasted before.
If you really want to know what a pawpaw tastes like, you鈥檒l have to find one yourself and get back to me.
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Stubborn drought in Ohio and shifting weather patterns appear to be affecting North America鈥檚 largest native fruit, the pawpaw. Some growers i…
The Flatwateaska鈥檚 first independent, nonprofit newsroom focused on investigations and feature stories that matter.