We’ve covered a fair amount of the neglected or hidden edibles, but this one managed to hide in plain sight for a while. I noticed it when we drove past one of these trees recently and Aub and I came to the conclusion that it was red berry season.

Deciding to investigate it a bit further than the most base of observations, I found one again and was able to figure out that it is a Kousa Dogwood. It’s actually quite common, as it is a disease-resistant substitute for the American Dogwood. These particular trees are located on Ashford-Dunwoody Road along Blackburn Park. The fruit is a pleasant novelty, and tastes peachy. And as of September 2nd, there are still loads of unripe fruits on the trees there. Stop by and grab some.

Anyone have an idea of what this is? We found it last weekend while picking apples.

After writing this post and describing what it is, I suddenly have a strong inkling of what it might be. I submit to you exhibit A, an illustration of the Olea europaea, also known as the olive:

There’s an episode of Discovery Channel’s Man vs. Wild in which Bear Grylls is dropped in to the Amazon to wander through the rainforest to civilization. At one point, he pauses, struck by the beauty of a purple flower hidden in the foliage. He reflects:

Nobody’s ever going to see that flower. That’s God’s extravagance. Even though no one’s ever going to see it, he just can’t help but create something beautiful.

Now I’m not a religious man, but y’on’t have to be to appreciate what he’s saying. I get from it just a reverence for nature, regardless of who or what created it – that things of great beauty and complexity go in and out of existence regardless of us, and it’s special to get to witness them.

The flower of the maypop, Passiflora incarnata
I always think of this quote when maypop season comes around, because not only does its flower rival prized orchids in beauty and intricacy, but it also has a hidden-in-plain-sight secrecy to it: it is found not in well-tended gardens and climate-controlled greenhouses, but rather amongst thorns, weeds, poison ivy, and in the case of this particular flower, along the North Druid Hills interstate access road.

The maypop fruit
The maypop is the North American relative of the passionfruit, and bears fruit similar to its southern cousin, with the edible portion surrounding the numerous seeds inside of the actual fruit, similar to a pomegranate. The name “maypop” refers to the fact that many of the fruits develop without seeds, and are filled only with a pocket of air that pops when trampled under foot. Of all the maypops I’ve ever seen in Atlanta, none have been edible, and I’m very curious to know what it’s like. So keep your eyes out…they’re growing right now and they’re a real diamond in the rough of Atlanta’s roadside bramble.

In today’s version of Side of the Road, we’re going to take a look at the flying dragon fruit, just in time for you to get some for yourself, since they are in season right now. I have marked some on the Food Map – they’re on Clairmont Rd, just south of Buford Hwy, where the following pictures were taken:

The flying dragon is by no means a pleasant fruit. The plant is covered in ferocious thorns which are not only long and sharp, but also incredibly sturdy. We were able to completely puncture wooden branches using the thorns, which suffered no damage in the process. So if the apocalypse happens tomorrow and we have to restart civilization from scratch, keep flying dragon in mind for making sewing needles. The plant gives the impression that it could survive a variety of end-of-the-world scenarios in order to provide high-quality pokey things for fledgling humanities.

The fruit is also pretty serious. It’s at least as sour as a lemon, but has a distinct pine taste to it as well. Sure, they’re not as easily appreciated as say, an apple, where you can just pick it off the branch and bite right in to it, but it would probably make a very refreshing lemonade, or add a very interesting taste when used in place of lemon juice in cooking.

And really, this is the only citrus fruit that grows well in Atlanta. Let’s have some love for this exotic marvel. After all, just look at what happened with a similar sour citrus fruit, the yuzu – it’s now the darling of la-dee-dah chefs the world over, is extremely expensive, and very difficult to obtain in the US.

If only there were some sort of saying about how to proceed in life when given sour citrus fruit.

If you happened to see our donation statistics page recently, you might have noticed the appearance of the muscadine. And you might be wondering just what it is. I was recently talking to a friend of mine about muscadines and scuppernongs and she thought I was quoting a Dr. Seuss book.

Now is the time to learn about muscadines, because they’re in season, they’re native to the southeast, and they’re fully delicious. So all the more reason to satisfy that southern pride and your belly in one fell swoop.

Muscadines are relatives of the grape, but with a thicker skin, and usually with several seeds in the center. They have a taste similar to a grape, but there’s no confusing the two. Many suck out the tasty middle of the muscadine and discard the sour skin, but I like to eat it all. I swear that muscadines taste like the artificial grape flavor found in a lot of Japanese candies, but others have been slow to agree with me on this point, so perhaps it’s something you just have to experience for yourself. There is also significant back and forth discussion concerning the amount of the resveratrol meganutrient found in muscadines. You should probably be on the safe side and eat lots of muscadines.

As far as finding muscadines, we’re starting to get a few points labeled on the food map, but you’ll also be able to find some on your own no problem. The difficulty with finding muscadines is that, being native to the southeast, they grow absolutely everywhere, but only a few vines actually fruit, and then of those vines, even fewer actually fruit to the point of it being worthwhile collect them.

One thing to know about muscadines is that they like to grow at the edges of wooded areas. Living in the beautiful, lush city that we do, we have a lot of roads cutting through wooded areas, one of the easiest ways to spot muscadines is just to watch the ground. You will eventually come across a scene like the one below, spotted from a moving vehicle near Briarcliff and Clairmont:

Fortunately, muscadines’ thick skin means that they usually suffer no damage (despite having fallen 20+ feet in the case of this particular picture) and you can successfully harvest lots of pristine groundling muscadines.