How Do You Know When a Pawpaw Is Ripe?

The pawpaws have been dangling, to the ground in some cases, since the end of September. Back at the end of May, I saw small clouds of the flies that pollinate pawpaws for the first time. They apparently did a grand job, because both trees have had plenty of fruit this fall. The pawpaws on the eastern tree are even larger than usual this fall. I ate the first one September 30—they are weighing in close to a pound and a half.

Big pawpaws on the eastern tree. Photographed on October 11, 2019.

So how do you know when they are ripe? You could wait for a sign.

A ripe pawpaw—obvious even from the kitchen window. Photographed on October 12, 2019.

But really, don’t wait this long! Who ate half a pawpaw—the southern half—the half that gets a little more sun? Your guess is as good as mine, although I am leaning towards raccoons. Chipmunks are a little too short for this kind of  mischief. Besides, they prefer figs!

Pick any fruit that is beginning to smell sweet and any that is no longer rock hard. Give each a gentle tug to see if it will release from the tree. If it releases, it is close enough. I wrap them in flour sacking and leave them to ripen on the kitchen counter until they are aromatic. The flour sacking lets them breathe, but thwarts fruit flies.

I have bumped into a few hands of pawpaws that have plopped to the ground when I was doing other things—like mowing. They were promptly whisked off to the kitchen to finish ripening.

A hand of pawpaws from the western tree; they are much smaller, but tasty anyway. Photographed on October 23, 2019.

What Do You Do With a Zillion Pawpaws?

You eat a lot and share the wealth.

  • The counter-ripened ones are getting eaten for breakfast most mornings; it would take about four of the little ones to equal the volume of one of the big ones.
  • The excess that are in good shape will be pureed, zapped in the microwave, and stored in little 1-cup jars in the freezer. They work well as a spread.
  • The chewed-up and rotting ones are saved for a friend who is trying to start a pawpaw patch from seed—he will also get the numerous seedlings that popped up this year, but not until next spring, when they have a better chance of surviving.
A baby pawpaw wedged in between the crested irises and some twinleaf seedlings. Photographed on October 17, 2019.

There are over two dozen baby pawpaws ready to move next April—at least I am imagining next April—as soon as the ground is thawed and diggable both here and at their new home.