Pawpaw 101

What you need to know about the Hoosier banana

Some call the pawpaw “America’s forgotten fruit.” If you scroll through some social media feeds right now, at the height of pawpaw season, you might find reason to disagree. In the last decade or so, the tropical fruit hiding in the Midwestern woods has made such a comeback that it’s almost overexposed.

“You know, the pawpaw has had a lot of nicknames,” says Marc Stadler, a farmer and pawpaw grower in Urbana, Ohio. “Hoosier banana, Quaker banana… Well, now they’re calling it a hipster banana.”

The fruit’s hipster-ish popularity makes sense. Since “farm-to-table” was still fresh, progressive American chefs and diners have been seeking out two culinary thrills that can be contradictory—novel ingredients and tastes of place. The pawpaw, which grows wild and in some orchards across the eastern United States, is both.

With a custardy texture and a flavor often described as a combination of banana and mango, the pawpaw is both quintessentially American and recognizably tropical—a heartland cousin to the Latin American cherimoya and soursop. It’s a reminder that even the native flavors of the Midwest are more diverse than most people realize.

Many Americans have discovered the pawpaw in recent years, via restaurants, breweries, and even dispensaries, but how well do most of us really know it? After a friend reached out with some questions last week, I decided to call Marc Stadler.

Marc is a longtime friend (and pawpaw connection) who is as dedicated to pawpaws as anyone I know—and that’s saying something, these days. He maintains a commercial orchard of about 300 pawpaw trees, producing 1,000-1,500 pounds of fruit per year, that doubles as a testing ground for researchers at Kentucky State University and the Ohio State University. He’s a fixture at the Ohio Pawpaw Festival, which took place in Athens this past weekend. And he’s gone deeper into the cultivation and appreciation of pawpaws than most of us ever will.

What’s so great about the pawpaw, anyway? What does it actually bring to the table that grocery store produce doesn’t?

It’s unlike anything at the grocery store, Marc says, describing it as “a tropical crème brûlée that we can grow right here in the Midwest.” Tasters differ on the specifics of that flavor, but along with mango and banana, they often pick up notes of pineapple, strawberry, and passionfruit. Then, there’s the custardy texture—reminiscent of an ice cream push pop. “People taste it, and they’re amazed,” Marc says. “They ask, ‘Wow, really? That grows here?’”

And if you don’t have your own orchard, getting your hands on pawpaws is an adventure, whether you’re searching in the woods or at the farmers’ market. That adds to the fun. “People get excited about their pawpaw hookups and their secret spots,” Marc says. “I’ve had people come to me saying, ‘Hey, I know where this pawpaw patch is, in this park, and no one else knows about it.’ Then, ten minutes later, someone else tells me about the exact same spot. It’s a game.”

Why can’t we buy pawpaws at the grocery store?

It’s a shelf life issue.

There was a time when American officials and agriculturalists were interested in popularizing the pawpaw. In 1916, after decades of pawpaw-related speculation, the American Genetic Association famously—well, famously in the native fruit community—launched a nationwide search for the best pawpaws, asking growers across the country to send samples to D.C. (The winner came from Ironton, Ohio.)

“That was quite an event,” Marc says. “But over time, people forgot about the pawpaw, because they couldn’t store it for more than a couple of days. You know what the shelf life of a pawpaw is, right? That’s why you can’t get them at the grocery store.”

Okay, it’s your first time trying a pawpaw… What do you do?

Don’t overthink it. Cut the pawpaw in half—or just break it open with your hands. Squeeze the pulp into your mouth. Enjoy. (Spit the seeds. Don’t eat the skin.)

That’s Marc’s recommendation, and it’s basically the way he eats his pawpaws at home. “My wife and I will cut a big one in half,” he says. “We each get a half, and we serve them on a plate with a spoon, just like you’d eat a little bowl of ice cream, or a kiwi.” According to legend, George Washington, a pawpaw grower himself, liked a bowl of chilled pawpaw for dessert.

But there is a consensus pick for the best pawpaw dish: ice cream. “There’s nothing like it,” Marc says. “I’ve judged pawpaw cooking contests, and nothing compares.”

Is there anything that pawpaw first-timers need to watch out for?

If you like that bright, tropical, mango-and-banana flavor, don’t cook the pulp. The fruit’s flavor and aroma transform almost immediately when you add heat. The resulting banana bread-like flavor is delicious in its own right. (I’ve infused caramelized pawpaw pulp into brandy and bourbon for old-fashioneds, and I’ll do it again.) But it isn’t the same. If you’re making pawpaw ice cream, for example, fold the pulp into the custard base after you’ve cooked the custard.

If you’re harvesting your own pawpaws, an important note: “Don’t shake the tree too vigorously,” Marc says. “Don’t shake the hell out of it. A lot of people do. If a pawpaw is almost ripe, it might ripen on your counter, but those rock-hard pawpaws that you’re shaking down, they never will.” When a pawpaw is ripe, it should fall from the tree easily, with just a gentle nudge, and it should be soft and yielding.

When you bring home a bag of ripe pawpaws, enjoy them quickly—remember the short shelf life—or get them in the refrigerator, where they can last for up to a couple of weeks.

So, you came across a ton of pawpaw trees in the woods near your house, and you were excited to come back for the fruit this summer, but you’re not seeing any. What’s going on?

First, Marc says, consider the simplest explanation—that someone else had eyes on your secret spot and beat you to it.

Second, what looked like pawpaw nirvana may have been a sterile collection of clones. That’s right—among their many alien attributes, pawpaw trees can and do clone themselves. “Pawpaws require cross-pollination to fruit, and in a situation like that, it’s very common that there’s no cross-pollination going on, because the trees are identical,” Marc says.

Third, it’s possible that the trees aren’t getting enough sun to produce fruit. Pawpaws like shade, but they have a limit. Some pawpaw-hungry landowners will open up the canopy by knocking down taller trees (not an option for most foragers, of course). “When light comes into the forest, because someone took down a big tree or a tree fell on its own, you’ll often see an explosion of fruit,” Marc says.

How much more time do we have this year?

Typically pawpaw season spans the month of September, plus a few weeks in August and October. This year, it started early, and some trees are already done fruiting for the year. 

“I think the season will be over by the end of the month,” Marc says. “You’d better publish this soon.”