In a kitchen that adjoins the meeting room, stalwarts peel, pit, and slice cherimoyas, which range in size from a Hass avocado to a standard pineapple. After a circuitous route - past dark, the place is devoid of tourists and a little spooky - I find Room 101, the Majorca, where growers and fans of rare fruit, as well as the simply curious, are gathered to celebrate the cherimoya. Is the cherimoya “right for me?” Instead of asking my doctor, I drop in one night on the California Rare Fruit Growers’ “cherimoya extravaganza” at Balboa Park. Most folks would judge these cherries at least as good as the typical commercially available Bings. They’re spindly trees, only six feet tall, but the half-ripe fruit is already sweet and pleasant. ‘Southern high bush’ and ‘rabbit eye’ cultivars, they prosper in the local balm, as do the royal ‘Lee’ and ‘Mini Lee’ cherries, two new, truly low-chill cherries. Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, or Maine - sure - but San Diego? Can these be any good? Though still immature, they are. A few feet away, low pots hold young blueberries, a little blue coming into the green. Heading toward the back yard, I take note of guavas - ‘strawberry’ and ‘red’ types - and a pomelo (antecedent of the grapefruit) in hyper-fragrant blossom. There’s a young Hachiya persimmon, tropical blackberries, a pomegranate tree, as well as stone fruit trees, Santa Rosa plum and Golden Apricot. Birds chirp, wind chimes sound in the breeze: the enclosed front yard sounds and feels like a botanic garden, and I’m already envious.
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