David Karp

Photo: Hal Cohen Upon meeting David Karp, fruit detective, his mild-mannered appearance initially brings to mind the image of an accountant, not a private eye; then he reveals the weapon he's been concealing. Fortunately, the fruit knife that ubiquitously occupies his holster is there to provide a readily available means to carve up fruit, not innocent streetwalkers. As Karp starts to slice up a few recently purchased seckles, he laments how the pears' dwarfish appearance has hindered their popularity. "Too bad they're not a little larger, or they'd be more of a specialty item," Karp says. "They really are the finest of the pears." For more than a decade, Karp has been a fruit journalist, covering the fruit beat in California for various national magazines and newspapers. He has become a champion for exotic fruit and a familiar figure at farmer's markets. He has forged a unique niche out of his lifelong obsession for fruit linking the growers--farmers who grow or are looking to grow the next taste sensation--with the knowers--agronomists who cultivate uncommon varieties of fruit, or even fruit enthusiasts who are merely looking for a tasty new treat. "In terms of reporting, he's the best," says Tracy Kahn, curator of the University of California, Riverside, citrus collection. "David always has the interesting details behind the history of varieties and their distributions." With massive plots of monoculture dominating the landscape of fruit agriculture, Karp has traveled an unbeaten path around the world to bring unusual and uncommon fruit into the public consciousness, the marketplace, and fruit collections. Karp's career as a fruit writer started at a time when the job was, well, ripe for the taking. The market for specialty foods was beginning to mushroom, and Karp was looking to reinvent himself after succumbing to some of the stresses and excesses that can happen when working on Wall Street. In 1990, he was able to convince his former college friend Eric Asimov (nephew of science fiction writer Isaac), who was writing the "$25 and under" column for the New York Times food section, to give him a shot at a freelance piece about apricots. Ensuing apricot articles brought the angelcot, a species of the white apricot, to the public's attention and quickly set off a battle between high-end restaurants and specialty markets hungry to obtain them. In addition to rare species of fruit, Karp's sleuthing has led to the introduction of new ones, such as a palatable quince that can be eaten like an apple. "He had overheard someone from Peru talking about a quince that could be eaten raw," says C. Todd Kennedy, historian and registrar of varieties of the California Rare Fruit Growers Society, "He managed to obtain the fruit and get it to me a few days later." Kennedy then donated the bulk of the apple quince (Cydonia oblonga) to the US Department of Agriculture's National Clonal Germplasm Repository in Corvallis, Oregon, where it remains the species clonal representative. Kim Hummer, research leader at the repository, says Karp's efforts have not gone unrewarded. "We're always on the lookout for a broad range of genetic diversity and unusual phenotype and since David brought this quince into the country we've named it Karp's sweet quince." Karp's zeal for his work means he spends most of the year riding around in the brutal California heat in Bessie, his beat-up pickup truck, all to observe the full growing cycle of blood oranges, or to drive hundreds of miles to track down much sought-after gage plums. Karp likes to think of hooking up fruit lovers with pertinent purveyors as pro bono. "I celebrate the inspired and foolhardy individuals who go against the grain of American fruit commerce and strive to supply the market with something extra-ordinary. And this is why they trust me," Karp says as he pulls out a thick dossier that would humble most any green grocer. His database of growers, breeders, sellers, and retailers lists the specialties of all the fruit markets Karp has visited. It's well over 100 pages of eye-squinting font that shows Karp's relentless attention to detail. The thousands of roadside stands, certified farmer's markets, and agreeable, year-round climate make California the regular beat for Karp. But today, Karp is back in his childhood home of Manhattan on one of the first, crisp days of autumn. With an absence of fruit dangling from perilous heights at the Union Square Green Market, Karp is without his customary pith helmet, and stops to compare his scalp to the delicious apple he is holding, "See, my head has become glabrous," he says, referring to the term for hairless fruit. For many, the chill in the air is a sign of apple weather and pumpkin picking, but as Karp strolls around from stand to stand, he's more enthused for pomegranate season and the reemergence of quinces. Stopping at a fruit stand full of quinces, Karp holds up the quince like Hamlet talking to a skull, and starts reciting anecdotes such as about how it was used for its aromatics in medieval England. A few onlookers begin to eavesdrop, interested to see what this man is waxing poetic about. And so the fruit detective returns to his unfinished case; bringing the unusual and delicious to the masses even if it's a few at a time. Hal Cohen can be contacted at hcohen@the-scientist.com.

David Karp

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