I had the pleasure of staying with friends in Colchester for a few days last week. They have one of those quintessential English trees in their garden, a medlar. The fruits won’t be ripe until they are almost rotten on the tree, by which time they are unparalleled as an autumn fruit.
I first encountered medlars when I was working in Somerset in the early 1980s. The tree was in a garden in Enmore, a village on the eastern slopes of the Quantock Hills, and I’d never seen one before. The fruits were much smaller than these. I have seen medlars on sale in Somerset greengrocers, but rarely. Get them if you can.
Update: This post was originally posted from my Google Nexus 7 whilst on a train; I couldn’t manage to insert the intended photo. Here it now is.