ONE CRISP MORNING LAST AUTUMN,
Boschendal’s GM of agriculture, Jacques du Toit, could be spotted hobbling between two rows of plum trees. His knee, fresh from surgery, was taking strain as his farmer’s shoes sank into the soft, mulch-covered soil. Walking alongside him was Jannie Marais, South Africa’s representative for Woolies’ exclusive plum supplier The Custom Plum Company – a joint venture between UK-based produce supplier Mack, and local fruit-growing company, Fruits Unlimited.
Each tree offered a merciful pit stop as the two paused to inspect branch upon branch of plump, dewy fruit. These aren’t the kind of plums we grew up with, that’s for sure. They’re larger, for one, but also much sweeter; their flesh faintly redolent of spring blossoms. Their evocative name – Flavour Fall – is a nod to their autumnal harvest time.
As any fruit farmer will tell you, plums require a particular level of precision (and a fair amount of pampering) to cultivate; doubly so if they’re destined for premium supermarkets, both here and abroad.
“The margin for error is extremely small and the risk is very high,” explains Jacques. An untimely bout of hail or fierce gust of wind, for example, can relegate an otherwise perfect specimen to the bottom of the pile. And while bruised apples or pears can still be salvaged for their juice, the same can’t be said for plums. The stress crescendos during harvest time, when a plum picked in the wrong way
(the trick is to cradle it in your hand and pull downwards, gently but firmly) or dropped into a fruit picker’s basket from too great a height, can be disastrous.
Consider then, for a second, the anxiety of being forced – on doctor’s orders – to sit out the first two weeks of a harvest you’ve spent the better part of 11 months working towards. “I ended up having to shout orders at everybody over the walkie-talkie,” Jacques remembers with a wry smile.
To put things into context, Jacques has been a farmer for 20 years and has never had a December holiday; he’s been married for ten years and still hasn’t gone on honeymoon. He’s as hands-on as they come. Which is why, when he should have still been at home recovering, there he was, back at his post, limp notwithstanding. The harvest was still in full swing, after all.
AS IS THE CASE WITH many large industries, somewhere along the line, the fruit-farming business evolved into a rather competitive fruit-branding business. Trademarked names and registered patents have become signifiers for specific textures and flavour profiles. Take the diminutive Sweet Pixie, colloquially known as the cherry plum, which will be making its exclusive debut on Woolies’ shelves early this year. Dainty and sweet with just a hint of satisfying tartness, this interspecific
hybrid between a plum and cherry was created in 2008 by a Californian fruit breeding company, Zaiger’s Inc. Genetics – a winner among literally tens of thousands of varieties that they carefully crossbred in that year alone.
Just let that sink in. It takes at least ten years between identifying a successful variety in California and being able to buy it off the shelf here. As with all interspecific plums imported by
The Custom Plum Company from Zaiger’s, the cherry plum budwood (young branches prepared for grafting onto the rootstock of another plant) had to spend two years in quarantine before the newly grafted trees spent over five years growing in The Custom Plum Company’s test trial blocks. Here, the fruit was routinely tested for taste, shelf life and storage. Only once the plums were deemed commercially viable – and delicious, of course – were they planted at Boschendal in 2016. And even then it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing, according to Jacques. “Every step was an unbelievable challenge because this product is so unique and new. No one else in South Africa has farmed it. I had to learn how the trees grew, how the fruit grew, what they liked and didn’t like … It challenged my 20 years of farming experience a lot.”
But Jacques maintains the blood and sweat involved in cultivating plums – especially tricky newcomers like the cherry plum – is worth it. “Plums are very labour intensive, but this suits Boschendal’s vision around job creation. For grapes, you need one fruit picker for every five hectares, but with plums you need a picker per hectare. So, for every hectare of plums we’ve planted, we’ve created a permanent job.” At over 140 hectares, it all adds up.
THE MORNING’S NIPPY AIR has made way for unseasonable mugginess by the time Jacques and Jannie are seated in an air-conditioned boardroom at the headquarters of Fruits Unlimited in Paarl. Joining them is Fruits Unlimited’s GM, Hans Muylaert-Gelein, for what is a weekly date in all three of their diaries: a taste evaluation of the range of plums currently “in development” by The Custom Plum Company. These evaluations see the men devour sliver after sliver of plum in search of that holy grail of high acidity and high sugar.
The conference table is covered with cardboard trays filled with what must be hundreds of plums and each of the men is armed with a penknife and plate.
“Jacques has been a farmer for 20 years and has never had a December holiday; he’s been married for ten years and still hasn’t gone on honeymoon”
“What you are looking for is aroma,” says Jannie, bringing a slice towards his mouth with his blade. “Something that suggests something else. Dimensions.”
The scope is impressive. There’s an inky-skinned varietal called Ruby Kat that fills your nose with rose flavours; the Scarlet Punch with flesh that’s an intense beetroot-red and incredibly juicy; the Emerald Gem, a plum-apricot cross that has olive-green skin and tastes vaguely of pear. Talking isn’t high on the agenda. The sign of a plum candidate is when the men eat all the way to the stone; the sign of an unsuccessful one is the swift rejection of the half-eaten fruit. “There’s an enormous investment that goes into research and development each year,” says Hans. “Sometimes it comes down to one winner paying for it all.”
Speaking of which, a tray of cherry plums is passed around. They’re on the verge of being ready for harvest, so Jacques, Jannie and Hans are tasting them almost daily. True to their trademarked name, the fruit is diminutive and delicate; its red-and-orange mottled skin giving way to sunshine golden flesh that’s crunchy, but not at the expense of juiciness. The men chew in silence. There’s a pause before Hans asserts: “They’re close, but not quite there yet.” In a couple of days they will be, though. If experience has taught them anything, it’s that this isn’t a rush job.
“The sign of a plum candidate is when the men eat all the way to the stone;
the sign of an unsuccessful one is a half-eaten fruit ”