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Bums up, Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards for they are subtle and quick to anger. - J. R. R. Tolkien, Dog's bum, Don't meddle around with it 'Cause it's far too wet to woo, Fruity, They told you not to meddle with the bass and the treble There's dust on your needle and you think that You're a rebel, Titter ye lots, We're jammin', You may say you won’t interfere with another person’s soul but you do—merely by existing. The snag about it is the practical difficulty - so to speak - of not existing. ― Dorothy L. Sayers
However Medlar away to your heart’s content.
I speak of the fruit – Medlars – Mespilus germanica – from The Medlar Tree or Common Medlar as it is known. The French call it ‘the dog’s arse’ – ‘cul de chien’, and it is also called the ‘open arse’ or ‘arse up’ fruit, indeed D.H Lawrence named them “autumnal excrementa”. They aren’t terribly pretty as you may have guessed by now, here are a small selection of said fruits I gathered this morning from some nearby trees that are really very attractive in their own right. Honest guv.
In order to eat the fruit it has to be left to rot, otherwise known as ‘bletting’, and this too has led to its demise in popularity, however, once bletted until soft enough to scoop out with a spoon it is reminiscent of stewed apple with a touch of lemon and makes for lovely jam, jelly or fruit sauce they say points at ‘them’, huddling in a corner with their rotting fruit looking mad as a bag of bees.
As mine are not yet rotted, here is one cut in half I have found upon the pedia that is Wiki, courtesy of Nadiatalent – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0
‘Yum!’, I’m sure you’re thinking. Esme falls all over the show laughing, then gets a grip
I intend cooking a batch of them up as jam and shall report back as to how truly foul, or magnificent they be.
This post began as innocently as a newborn lamb, and yet somehow is ending with the following, courtesy of Shakespeare. Esme blames her readers for all this filth.
MERCUTIO
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.
Now will he sit under a medlar tree
35And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit
As maids call medlars when they laugh alone.—
O Romeo, that she were! Oh, that she were
An open arse, and thou a poperin pear.
Romeo, good night. I’ll to my truckle bed.
40This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep.—
Come, shall we go?
Professor Taboo said:
So let me get this love marital fruity stuff straight…
If I let my adored blet and rot, make her bletted, she’ll turn into delicious joy with a puckering of lemon? (his brow purses while he rubs his maniacal chinny-chin-chin)
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
In a nut (huge one) shell . . . yes, that’s pretty much the size of it (not the pucker), and the moral of the tale is that the least pretty fruits will often bear the sweetest flesh if you give them time to mature (or rot on the shelf). Once one gets to a rotting age oneself, those who have been awaiting being plucked from the fruit bowl in vain for aeons may well prove to be the best of the bunch (bananas).
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Professor Taboo said:
TA-DAH! And there it is. 😍
(the curtain drops & the crowd goes wild tossing bouquets of every sort onto stage!)
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
So long as that’s all that’s tossed I’m happy. – beams a big set of pearly whites
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Scottie said:
Esme, as much as I love you, I do not wish to eat anything “rotten”. Sorry it just seems so disgusting to me. However I think the idea of cooked down into a Jam or jelly would be tasty. Hugs
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
I wouldn’t dream of presenting you with one in that state, but if you were closer in space and time you would be receiving a jar of jam without doubt.
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jim- said:
Interesting. Love seeing something new and delicious. And some new words to boot!
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
I’ll let you know how delicious they turn out to be, but up to now my imagination is having them taste like tiny quince, which I don’t think is true at all. The aim is to not pull a face like a bulldog sucking a lemon when I first try a spoonful. Thank you Jim.
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Ben Naga said:
Well this takes us off on an odd trail then. Here’s another that I believe you will enjoy.
~~~~~ ~ ~~~~~
IIN VEERY BAAD TAASTEE
II haad aa leetteer
Froom my dooctoor toodaay
IIt waas baad neews
EEspeeciiaally foor aa wriiteer
Thee teests caamee baack
IIt’s coonfiirmeed
II haavee vooweel caanceer
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Hahahahahahaha. To emulate Dick Emery – It is awful…but I like it – I do, it’s made me guffaw out loud Ben, thank you for that, as you know the Cloud is a happy home for much that may be deemed unpalatable!
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rung2diotimasladder said:
I have never heard of this tree…eh, I guess I’m not much of a Shakespeare reader either. Those remind me of the tiny pomegranates I get from my ornamental tree. I would be afraid to take a bite of that rotting part. Someone else would have to do it first, in front of my eyes, and then it would have to pass a rigorous sniff test.
Good luck on the jam!
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
‘then it would have to pass a rigorous sniff test‘ – Such a test is oft employed upon the Cloud when miscreants are found clambering up the back alley. They do look like ornamental fruits actually, very much so, and I think make for a, if not pretty, perhaps handsome addition to a garden. Thank you for your visit Tina, fingers crossed on the jam front!
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makagutu said:
That’s a strange fruit. It has to rot to be eaten. At what point does it rot not to be edible
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Good point, it’s likely to be a tad hit and miss I reckon. I’ll keep an eye out for the flies tucking their napkins into their collars.
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makagutu said:
You must keep an eye for them flies.
Mak sends hugs to Esme upon the Cloud
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
I shall do Mak, thank you.
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Swarn Gill said:
Like all good fruit the balance in life is between the ripe and ruin
– Interlude 1 by Alt-J
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Lovely lyrics Swarn, and so very true. I intend staying ripe right up until the moment I am ruined.
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Swarn Gill said:
I like you enough to keep you past ripeness…I’d hold my nose of course…but I’d still keep you around. 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Why thank you. I think. Hahahahaha.
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Swarn Gill said:
It’s only because you do such wonderful compositions, that I want to see how well you decompose. 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Ha! Nicely played sir.
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Anarette said:
Benji, my furry friend, would concur and love to eat the rotten fruit. I rather not….
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Rosie would like as not roll in it for fun, I’d rather not do that either laughs
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acflory said:
Oh! You’ve solved a mystery for me. Back during summer we visited an old garden with a small orchard. In that orchard were a couple of trees that had precisely that weird looking fruit growing. I had no idea what the fruit was called or how to eat it. Now I know. Thank you kindly, Miz Esme. 🙂
Medlar, medlar, medlar…
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
You’re very welcome Meeka, next time you can pick some and watch it rot. Hahahahaha.
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acflory said:
Ahem, the rot part doesn’t enthuse me, but at least I know what to say now….”oh you rotten Medlar, you…”
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Carmen said:
I had never heard of such a fruit – how interesting! I’m sure the jelly will be delicious! Hope you have some on a biscuit, Esme! 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Well, I’m hoping it won’t be as foul as the wee hairy bum-hole-like fruit keeps parading itself as. Biscuits away!
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Ben Naga said:
Or to emulate Kenny Everett
“all in the best possible taste”.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
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Ben Naga said:
Yes, that’s the quote.
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Hariod Brawn said:
All your readers moaning about rot in fruit, I don’t know! Have they never heard of the ‘Noble Rot’ that produces some of the world’s most sensational white wines, and has done so since the 1500s?
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
They’re all heathens dearie; then again wine isn’t a patch on Rola Cola and meths.
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Hariod Brawn said:
What is Rola Cola? * Looks quizzical as he polishes his glarse *
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
It’s a fine brew from the 1970’s, possibly limited in distribution to the north of the UK. Like Panda Cola but less of a head on it. nods
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Hariod Brawn said:
Oh, I’ve never dared go to the north.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Esme Cloud
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Hariod Brawn said:
It’s the way the women dress that scares me about the north.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Fantastic clip, well found H! I’d forgotten how much front Bet Lynch had.
Hahahahahaha.
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Hariod Brawn said:
Bet Lunch. * Parks his bike at an obvious spot *
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Bill Ziegler said:
The mettle to meddle medlar melded: thaeres me thoughte. Ne’er see’n, ne’er saw’d, ne’er eaten’d medlar, thinkes me braine, sayes me tong, reportes me eyye. Aye. Ne’er. Ne’er. Ne’er.
Medlar rotted melds fleshe o’ the medlar ‘tween the rot and the naught-so-wraught rot: fromme darke tae lighte, rot thraegh, rot naught.
Thaeres ev’dence o’ the lyne ’tween rot ay not rot, as witness mae. Hmm, hnn, hoo — sinks the autumanal dew throughe the skaenne o’ the medlar? Thaere’s me questione! Dew o’ the saeson rot aen the merrie medlar fair ‘nd rare.
Jelly in the jowl, jelly notte foul. Jelly on the cruste oef a breade well ovened in fraught aire autumanal.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Perfectly Shakespearean Bill, closer than the bard himself I’d say, I do love all those extra letters slipped twixt and twout, not a spot of rot (no Tommy) in there, just the bestest of sliding medlarsome wordy brocade.
Thank ye kindlee goode sirear
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Bill Ziegler said:
Perhaps I channel wordage from the lost tayles of Bard 🙂
Ruff, ruff barks Rosie, a fine canine and lovely friend who is not chuffed when rough trumpish ruffians and Kavanaughts beerishly call a néflier a ‘cul de chien’ !!!
Mention of Rosie always lifts my spirit, by the bye 🙂 ❤ 🙂
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
She’s such a sweetheart, the most tragic expressions on the planet, I must get her a tiny violin to play on street corners to raise funds for the Cloud Christmas Disco.
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Hariod Brawn said:
Love on an atom. Love on a cloud.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
It’s here. Placebo at their most joyful.
It was in spam. I can’t see why comments end up there most of the time.
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Swarn Gill said:
To Hariod’s point above, I believe you shouldn’t have used the word ‘rot’. Bletting is correct. Really all you are doing is letting it ripen. It just seems that medlars need more ripening than they can get on the tree itself. But for most fruit we buy we let sit for a bit and get softer and sweeter before we eat it. This really isn’t that different. They remind me of persimmons which if I remember also require this bletting.
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Ahem – In Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure, he alluded to bletting when he wrote (IV. iii. 167) “They would have married me to the rotten Medler.” – Really, they have all just rotted until at the correct stage for the palate, ‘Bletting’ is just a posh name for it. We’re all rotting of course . . . blettin’ hell. laugh and chucks a bletted bowl of medlars at his head
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Bela Johnson said:
Yo. Sounds almost like durian. Which smells like a rotting corpse to some of us. 😘
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
I’ll see your ‘Yo’ and raise you a Yo-yo! The Durian, I’d like to taste one, I have an extremely impaired sense of smell so might manage a mouthful. Have you ever eaten any?
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Bela Johnson said:
Haha 😉 Oh, they are … supposedly … because honestly, I canNot get past the smell … but my daughter says too … they are delicious. I guess some things in life will just have to be taken on faith by me. I’m okay with that. Love to you, dearie!
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
Hahahahaha, love back atchya Bel(l)a donna ❤
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Bela Johnson said:
😧
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Michael said:
They look quite nutritious, Esme, I must say. As well as possessed. I cannot escape the sensation they know something which I do not.
According to one site, medlar fruit eliminates dizziness and fainting, has respiratory benefits, and aids in the elimination of impotence. It only aids in it, mind you.
Also, as you rightly note, you can eat them.
Michael
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Esme upon the Cloud said:
‘As well as possessed‘ – Hahahahaha. Aye, they have a look of the dark side about them. Autumnal offerings if ever I saw them. And I had no idea of their . . . enhancing abilities shall we say? My jam may be more popular than expected!
Thank you for the visit, Michael.
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