Apricots. Photo: Domenica Marchetti for NPR
Post by Domenica Marchetti, Kitchen Window at NPR Food (6/19/13)
Get recipes for Strawberry-Apricot Pie, Broiled Apricots With Honey Mascarpone, Apricot-Anise Jam and Cheryl’s Apricot Fra...
Apricots. Photo: Domenica Marchetti for NPR
Post by Domenica Marchetti, Kitchen Window at NPR Food (6/19/13)
Get recipes for Strawberry-Apricot Pie, Broiled Apricots With Honey Mascarpone, Apricot-Anise Jam and Cheryl’s Apricot Frangipane Galette.
Apricots are the finest of summer’s fruits, with dense, juicy flesh and delicate, velvety skins. Piled in baskets in farmers market stalls, they seem to glow in the early morning light. The prettiest ones have a celestial blush and a sweet, floral fragrance.
That’s why it is so disheartening when you bite into one only to find it is mealy and flavorless. I can’t count the number of times this apricot lover has been the victim of just such an injustice. You probably have been, too.
I grew up eating apricots by the kilo during summers spent in Italy. I could not get enough of their intense flavor, of prying them open and biting into their sweet-tart meaty interiors. I liked them better than I liked gelato (OK — maybe that’s a stretch, but not by much).
Finding worthy apricots this side of the Atlantic has been a challenge, especially since I am not in California, the source of about 95 percent of commercially grown U.S. apricots. By the time they make their way over to Virginia, where I live, I suspect any celestial qualities have been jostled out of them. Having been burned many times, I am now reluctant to pay upwards of $6 a pound at fancy grocery stores for apricots that don’t deliver.
In recent years I’ve had some luck at my weekly farmers market, where the locally grown apricots, in season in late June and early July, are flavorful and juicy, if not quite as spectacular as those I remember from my childhood.
It took the apricot a long time — centuries — to get to my market. It’s an ancient fruit, the origins of which can be traced back to pre-biblical times. It was first cultivated in the mountains of Northeastern China as early as 2200 B.C., according to food historian Waverly Root. From there it traveled to Mesopotamia (it was said to grow in the hanging gardens of Babylon) and the Mediterranean. Spanish missionaries are credited with bringing the apricot to California in the 18th century.
Apricot trees require a temperate climate to thrive, Root says, with a cool winter allowing for a dormant period. However, the tree blooms early and is highly susceptible to frost, which can make it difficult to cultivate.
There are many varieties of apricots, with colorful names such as Lorna, Ambercot, Blenheim and Goldbar. Some are large and plush and uniformly orange-colored and some are small, with a rosy cast. Then there are the new hybrids such as red velvet, with its near-black skin — actually a cross between an apricot and a plum.
Apricots are best when picked ripe from the tree. While it’s easy to tell if an apricot is ripe, it can be tough to tell whether it’s good. Look for fruits that have a deep orange-gold color rather than those that are pale orange or yellow. They should be plump and firm, with just a little softness to them. If they’re hard, they’re not ripe; if they’re squishy, they’ve gone too far. Ripe apricots have a lovely, unmistakable floral fragrance, so give it the sniff test.
Having said all that, there have been times, usually in grocery stores, where I thought I was buying decent apricots and have been sorely disappointed when I took a bite. You’re likely to have better luck at a farmers market that sells locally grown fruit. Taste a sample if you can; it’s really the only way to know for sure.
Besides being delicious, apricots are packed with nutrition — vitamins A and C, plus fiber and potassium. In the kitchen, they are versatile, and as much as I love them (the good ones) raw, cooking them caramelizes their sugars and deepens their flavor, making them even more delightful. They are as comfortable sidled up to a roast as they are nestled in a sweet pastry crust. In