We return you now to the Summer of Sweetness…
…which was in the year 1496. Christopher Columbus, returning from his second voyage to the west, had brought back some unique items including parrots, tomatoes, tobacco, pumpkins, and a strange plant with a spiky top that looked like a crown. When the plant was cut open and the fruit presented to King Ferdinand, it proved to be quite literally the sweetest thing that any European had ever tasted. Almost immediately, the plant became a symbol of Spanish power in the New World.
So of course all of the other courts of Europe wanted to get in on it. Since the plant had to be imported from the far edge of the world, it was exceedingly rare and featured only on royal tables. By the 1600’s, France had adopted the fruit as a symbol of their king. The French physician Pierre Pomet wrote that it was “the King of fruits…the finest and best that are upon the face of the earth…the King of Kings has placed a crown upon the head of it.”
England was rather late to the royal-fruit-icon game. Oliver Cromwell came to power in 1642, and for a time luxury items passed out of style. But in 1660, King Charles II – nicknamed the Merry Monarch – ascended the throne, and he made the “King Pine” a symbol of his house. In 1668, when the French ambassador arrived in London to negotiate control of the island of St. Kitts, King Charles ordered a pyramid of fruit to be placed on the negotiation table, and he topped it with a King Pine that had been especially shipped in from Barbados. He also commissioned a portrait of himself being presented the fruit by the royal gardener, which was a stretch since the plant could not be grown in Europe.
Not, that is, until the Dutch figured out a way to do it. In 1682, just as the English were gaining control of the New World, the Dutch invented a thing called a greenhouse, and grew the first King Pine in Europe, which sent the English into a jealous frenzy which lasted until William of Orange (a Dutchman) became King of England in 1689.
Once the fruit could be raised (with much cost and difficulty) throughout England, it became a ubiquitous symbol of luxury. Individual plants would be passed from party to party, up until the time they began to rot. In the 18th century, the imported-home-goods industry sprang up, and the plant was soon featured on tableware, garden sculptures, and fine carriages.
However, all heydays come to an end. Just as England had gained a monopoly over the fruit, steamships made the importing of it an everyday occurrence. From that point forward, the King Pine lost its luster. These days it is ubiquitous around the world, in cans at the grocery store, mixed into umbrella drinks, or in a fruit salad. Heck, you might even top a pizza with it.
But the memory of exotic greatness endures. Each time you have a taste of King Pine, you may be reminded of past empires, of tropical lands, and a life of leisure once enjoyed only by aristocrats.
Summer is here. Have a taste. All hail the luscious pineapple, King of all fruits.
Mike Keeler
