Trees Company

Imagine a triangle with all its sides the same length. At one corner is Cahors, where the rich, black/red wine comes from. Moving clockwise on the map, at the next corner is Montatuban where I get my cement. At the third corner is Agen, after which the prunes are named (for those of you who have failed to make the leap, these would be the famed, Agen Prunes – or Pruneaux d’Agen).

These are not to be confused with the teeth-breaking bullets found at the back of a low shelf in Tesco.

Or the Californian variety with the paraffin gloss, mammoth marketing budget and pitiful pun 'Sun Maid' (TM).

Come round here with your shriven plums and
your ‘look at me, I'm so pruny’ sloganising.

Compare the grossly exploited Sun Maid, sent out in all weathers to sell dried fruit from a basket in order to line the pockets of the California plum barons, with the Prune Girls of the Old South West. Here they are just back from the round up.

Three Prune Girls

Sporty Prune, Stoned Prune and Baby Prune

There’s simply no comparison. When the Prune Girls get home there’s fun to be had. None of that ‘goody-two-prunes’ nonsense. These girls put the raisin in ‘raison-d’etre’. Well that’s what it says on the Prune Girls 2007 calendar…

We are the Pune Girls, Agen bound are we
We take a pride in our fine lingerie
They're our big pruny panties, which we don't try to hide
Always on show and worn on the outside
(there's more but you really don't want to know)

Pruneaux d’Agen are what plums were made for. With the exception of Reine Claude (more about these later), plums are interesting for a moment, but soon lose their appeal. The same cannot be said of the noble prune. The butt of many a  scatological put-down, prunes are simply sublime – and we are lucky enough to live in the prune capital of the world.

To the south and west, Poulet is hemmed in by plum orchards. The amount of blossom in April is enough to make you sick. 

 

All around is vapid whiteness contrasting with an overwhelming fragrance. But I managed to drag myself down there last year and bang off a few shots for your benefit before being overcome by the rampant fecundity of it all.

‘Never mind’ I thought, ‘it’s all in a good cause.’

Mmm...

The man who used to own the plum orchards, and tried to convert them into a golf course, got his just deserts and has moved on to fresh pastures. 

The new owner is a young chap who is really going for it and has already cut out the dead wood from last year and planted replacements for the trees that just fell over due to the weight of plums (honest!).

We, too, have planted some fruit trees, admittedly on a more modest scale. We dug up some fig tree stringers a planted them a few years ago and had our first figs least year. We have two variety of apple and pears, a peach tree, and an apricot tree.

We did plant some plum trees, though these were the little orange Mirabelles and the world’s best plum, the Reine Claude. In the UK we call them greengages and they should not be judged on the ghastly greengage jam we had to suffer as children. They are simply delicious and we await the first crop with some anticipation.

But Queen Claude… doesn’t sound right.

Queen Claude
Duchess of Brittany

Not much to look at either.

We decided not to plant any cherry trees as Juliette had half a dozen, including early and late varieties. These fruited over a five week season at the end of which we could not look another cherry in the face. Then she sold the field to the plum-man and the bugger grubbed up all the cherry trees to grow EU subsidies. 

Anyway… the reason I started all this was because we also have three noisette (hazel) trees. They grow so vigorously that they threaten to obscure the view of Lauzerte and most of the sky if we do not keep them under control. Following our neighbour's lead, earlier on this afternoon I was out on the estate with a pair of secateurs on a very long pole, trying to beat them into submission.

Suitably submissive noisette

Looking down the hill I could see the plum orchard, and as I trimmed away a thought of such profundity came upon me that I felt obliged to share it with you. 

I thought: I’d rather be pruning a nut tree than nutting a prune tree.

Thank you, and goodnight…