Yes, we know what it looks like. And, yes, we ate it, anyhow. Fortunately it didn't taste like that. Not even close. Yet the experience of devouring this strange fruit was something akin to losing our virginity.
We found this chocolate sapote at a farmer's market and thought
that it was worth a buck to try anything with chocolate in its name. The
farmer who grew the thing said it was a great item to sneak into a
kid's diet since it has amazing nutritional value and looks yummy when
mixed into whatever--oatmeal, peanut butter sandwiches, etcetera...
(Okay, so he never actually said "etcetera," but you get the idea). We
don't have kids, but we act like them, so our consumption was
Anyhow by the time we made it home
the thing was nearly downright squishy, its green skin looking as if it
got sacked by a defensive end one too many times. So we threw it in the
fridge and waited until morning.
The sun rose and we excitedly took our fruity friend out to find it now cold, but still squishy. It emitted virtually no scent, either, so onward with our study. We tore into the skin and were pleasantly surprised to find it was just as chocolately brown as we hoped though, in retrospect, we wondered what other color it possibly could've turned.
Upon careful dissection we came across six substantially large reddish-brown seeds which resembled the shape of small garlic cloves and set those aside for later inspection. Then we dug into the flesh, squeezing it from the skin then licking the remnants off our digits and sucking and licking the skin of all the little bits. Dare we admit how sensual this experience was?
True this specimen lacked the tang of a passionfruit's core, the yield of an apple's skin when pierced by an incisor, and the liquid response of a Royal Riviera pear consumed right at it's peak, but if fruit could appear in a sexy competition, we dare say this chocolate sapote is a contender for the crown.
It really doesn't have much taste, just a slight sweetness and a beautiful custardy texture. And, yes, it does resemble chocolate when mixed in with a bowl of oatmeal (see Exhibit A for proof), but don't count on this fruit to deliver any spike of flavor. It reminded us of chocolate pudding, just light on the chocolate and sugar.
Exhibit A: Chocolate-less fruitified oatmeal
Photo by Riki Altman
As to whom should eat this, that's easy: anyone who hasn't gotten laid in a while. You'll get the same spike of sensual satisfaction without having to buy anyone dinner and the cleanup after exploration is much, much easier.