Eating Our First Susquehanna Pawpaw

A few years ago we planted a Susquehanna pawpaw cultivar. Faithful followers of this blog will know that this year was the first time it gave fruit. It gave fruit really quickly, since we just planted it in May 2016.

Here's a pic of the first bite of the first Susquehanna pawpaw back in September. It was a fine pawpaw, and we've heard it grows very big. In terms of texture, it was more jelly-like than we were accustomed to with either the Shenandoah or the Atwood or even the Wells. In fact, in the center, the jelly-like quality was very pronounced, to the point that around the seeds in some of them the flesh seemed genuinely gelatinous, so that rather than being opaque it was translucent. I don't know if that's been others' experience with the Susquehanna. Maybe it's the year. Maybe it's the climate. Maybe it's the year plus the climate plus the cultivar.

In Virginia one year I foraged a bushel of pawpaws and was surprised to find, when I cut the soft ones open, they were kind of like big gummy bears. I ate two or three gummy bear pawpaws every day until they were gone. Still, my preference was for the creamy and custardy pawpaws that I was more familiar with. The Susquehanna wasn't as much of a gummy bear pawpaw as the wild ones I found in Virginia, but there was a resemblance, enough to get me to recall eating those gummy bear pawpaws. I'm discussing this attribute of the Susquehanna without putting either a positive or negative spin on it, since for some people this could be a selling point and for some people, something to avoid. I do recommend that you take my description here into account in balance with the description of Neal Peterson, who developed the cultivar, and who is much more of an expert on pawpaws than I am. He says the Susquehanna is his favorite of them all. It's not my favorite, but the Shenandoah is, and that also was developed by Peterson.