Plumcots

The checker at my local supermarket rolled the fruit around, looking for a sticker so she could punch in the correct code. Then she looked at me and asked, “What are these?”

“They are plumcots,” I replied.

“What?”

“Plumcots,” I once again stated.

Her puzzled stare indicated that this was a new food item in her repertoire. Being always on the ready to educate the masses, I further explained that two years ago they were called pluots and last year they were called dinosaur eggs, morphing into plumcots this year.

At this point, the checker is on customer overload and wondering when her next break is coming so I curbed my enthusiasm and simply stated that, “They are delicious. You should try them.” (don’t think she will, but she’s up to speed for the next time the orbs of deliciousness cross her moving runway.)

If you are curious about what a plumcot/pluot/dinosaur egg is, look no further. They are a hybrid cross between a plum and an apricot. Not sure who thought that that was a good idea, but it worked. They are the shape and size of a plum. They have a dappling of apricot orange color splashing across their skin, giving them a dusky, unripe look. Their interior flesh is a jeweled purple color and their flavor is dazzling with juicy goodness. (salivating now)

What has intrigued me most about this fruit is the obvious quest for an appropriate name for the little guy. I admit that he doesn’t exactly have looks going for him, so perhaps a proper christening will improve his marketing value.

Here is my evaluation of the names so far:

1)     Pluot—This moniker has the proper combination of his parental names (plum and apricot). Unfortunately, the “uo” blend is not very common in the English language. Do you emphasize the “u” or do you blend it with the “o”? Is it pronounced with two syllables or do you roll the word into one? A struggle with pronunciation in the produce aisle is probably more than the average shopper can tolerate which will most likely wear down any attempt to try a new food adventure, thus, no pluot in the cart.

2)     Dinosaur eggs—For Pete’s sake, who thought that one up? Perhaps, it was a marketing strategy geared toward the wee ones who are very good at wearing down their parental units when they want an object of desire. However, my experience as a former grocery store clerk, tells me that very few tantrums begin in the produce aisle. The big Mt. Vesuvius meltdowns are saved for the candy and cereal aisles. As for me, I’m not so sure I want to think about a reptilian egg when I’m selecting juicy fruit. I almost boycotted them under the ovum title, but I just couldn’t resist their siren song of lusciousness.

3)     Plumcot—This name solves some of the pronunciation issues and clearly indicates a plum/apricot heritage; however, I’m afraid the new name has not solved its identity crisis. The plums nouveau are still huddled in a small corner of the produce aisle, never more than a dozen at a time. Not sure the new name is going to save it from going the way of the dinosaur.

As for me, the little plumcot is a mascot for the fact that sometimes a less than stellar name and a not so perfect exterior can produce a great treasure within.