Ordinary pineapple a feast of the past Fruit a social coup in Colonial America

Fruit.

Some of you out there just cringed at the sight of that little word.

But wait! For those who gasp at the recollection of their mother foisting those venomous vitamins across their palate and for those who spend the greater part of their adult life fleeing those naughty nutrients, I have arrived with a proposal: Not all fruit must be edible.

It may be decor.

It interests this gardener that our celebration and enjoyment of nature’s beauty extends beyond dried flowers in summer and evergreen boughs this time of year. It extends beyond what we grow in our own gardens and climes, out into the diverse sampling of flora and produce from all corners of the world.

This holiday season, my daughters and I crafted a wreath that is practically bursting with dried fruits from hither and yon: whole pineapples, slotted oranges, sliced apples and quince and bunches of pepperberries. All set upon a background of bay leaves, these fruits explode with color and subtle fragrance and harken to a time gone.

The fruits on our wreath weren’t grown in Maine, I’m a bit ashamed to say, although I suppose the apples could have been. Technically speaking, the pineapples could have been, too.

You see, an acquaintance, who happens to own one of the highest-tech greenhouses in the state of Maine, has shown me his greenhouse-grown pineapples, and it can be relayed first-hand that it is, indeed, possible to grow pineapples in Maine. In fact, it’s possible to grow bananas and oranges in Maine, too, as my neighbors “Mr. and Mrs. B.” have found.

But I digress. Where was I? Oh yes, I was going to tell you why a 9-inch tall dried pineapple is placed at the bottom center of our wreath and about how the fruit has enjoyed a deliciously rich history.

You may have noticed in your travels, that the pineapple is known as a symbol of hospitality. You’ve seen it placed on door knockers, bed posts and on the handle of stove pokers. But do you know why it is there? Well, to understand how the undervalued yellow-fleshed fruit attained this gracious status, it is necessary to step back in time. Think back to the time long before modern news service, long before modern refrigeration, long before TV, radio and the telephone.

Think back to the early days of America and the simplicity and difficulty with which life was lived.

The homes of Colonial Americans were truly the center of the community. Long before organized information services flooded the home, people gathered with neighbors to verbally exchange news gleaned over the past days and weeks.

Gatherings in the home were the primary means of entertainment and were vital social gatherings, really. Often religious services and town meetings were held in the homes of key members of Colonial communities. One can imagine that the warmth and style with which people were invited into a home were considered the hallmark of a gracious host and hostess.

In the days of early America, formal home visits between relatives and neighbors often included – as a means of entertainment – the creative display of food. Magnificently tiered displays of fruits, greenery and flowers graced the dinner table and mantle. Painstaking arrangements were designed, with some fruits painted with egg wash and rolled in sugar. All in all, it was somewhat expected that a hostess define her style and her family’s social standing through these displays.

Women might harvest fruits in season from their orchard and garden. But in winter, or in more populated areas where people tended to be removed from the production of their food, women depended on grocers to supply the fruits and flowers for their arrangements. Readily available were apples, oranges and quince. They were beautiful, but ordinary.

Then there was the pineapple.

It was exotic, expensive and tasty. Its sweet, rich flavor made it the ultimate Colonial foodstuff. But shipping the pineapple from the Caribbean Islands was tricky in those days. Often shipments were spoiled due to warm weather and slow ship service. Preserved pineapple – chunks packed in sugar as a preservative – were called “sweetmeats” and were highly desirable. Not as desirable as the real, fresh thing, however!

The pineapple was so revered it was placed on a pedestal at the center of the table arrangement. Due to its rarity, it was a social statement to secure a pineapple for the centerpiece arrangement. To heighten the entertainment, often guests were kept from viewing the display until a key moment in the evening, when the doors to the dining room were flung open with a flair and the guests were allowed to enter the area to view the elaborate display. It was this – the drama with which the pineapple was revealed to guests in Colonial America – which is the source of the fruit’s noted symbol of a commitment to hospitality, good cheer and the warmth of the home.

That center pineapple: It was gazed upon. It was talked about. It was feasted upon with the eyes of everyone in the room.

And occasionally, it was actually eaten. Oh yes, the fresh pineapple was so revered, so exotic, so, well, pricey, that some Colonial people could only afford to “rent” the pineapple from the local grocer by day. One can imagine the social skill it would take for a hostess to boast the possession of a pineapple, but not be allowed to share the fruit with her guests.

Well, the pineapple on our wreath won’t be eaten any time soon. It was preserved though a freeze-drying process that will ensure its longevity for years to come – a process which would likely make Colonial women shudder with excitement. They could reuse the coveted pineapple year after year, which is – with a reverent nod to the past – exactly what I intend to do!

Diana George Chapin is the NEWS garden columnist. Send horticulture questions to Gardening Questions, 512 North Ridge Road, Montville 04941 or e-mail dianagc@midcoast.com. Selected questions will be answered in future columns. Include name, address and telephone number.