Last week the fruitarians held their first annual Woodstock Fruit festival here at Menla. 200 or so people, mostly camping, descended on the campus and brought 4 tons of fruit with them. For those who aren't familiar with fruitarians, they are people who just eat fruit. No beans, nuts, or seeds- just raw fruit and vegetables. I know, I know... How do they survive on just fruit? They eat all day. They carry large wooden bowls or a half of a watermelon full of fruit and are juicing, and slurping fruit every moment they have.The festival consisted of lectures and testimonials by doctors and fellow fruits who swear eating a raw diet all but saved their lives. Illnesses were removed and minds sharpened. There were soccer games, races, jogs, bike tours, hikes, and even a dance. I swore next thing we new they'd be flying around. These were the most fit, active, and energized collective of people I'd ever witnessed. Like a triathlon day camp. Trim & tan; nothing extra. You saw it because they wore as little clothing as possible and were constantly jogging from place to place.
Their 'kitchen' was set up in our dining hall. Cases and cases of fruit crowded the floor like box cars at the train yard. Long tables set up with cutting boards & cleavers and an army of juice machines. Just outside was a wash station (because fruit is messy and sticky... and should always be washed first!) and the compost depot consisting of several Rubbermaid bins which were hauled off to the compost pile via golf cart when full, with back to back trips at meal times.
Think of any and every fruit you know and add 20 more different varieties you've never tried. Fruit was reppin' something serious. They made salads and juice, raw soup and pasta out of zucchini. Most of the time they just ate massive bowls of fresh cut fruit.
I will say they were slightly intimidating lean, mean exercise machines. Just eating cooked vegetarian food in their presence made you feel like a sinner. Forget about a steak and a smoke.
The fruits came from all over the world to attend; Australia, Europe, Seattle; one dude bike fom Cali. They were like a carnival; bright colors, energy, movement. all that was missing was the big top. They were all actually really nice people, a little spaced out- illated- but definitely kind. One guy could read auras. Another took a 'beautiful mental picture' of me carrying produce from the garden.
Except for that one fruit...
The guy who tripped out, gashed his forehead, and started harassing women. This all happened just before he had a mental breakdown, became a danger to others, and was ER'd to the psych ward. Not sure if he had a previous mental condition and forget to take his meds or he ate some shrooms and just couldn't hang.
They were here for a week, most camped though it rained 5 out of 7 days. One of those days I think it rained 9 inches. The fruits were hardcore!
There were uys who would pass the garden and almost pop wood if they saw me harvesting. I figured they were either turned on by my zucchini or they prospect of having a gardener as a girlfriend.
They swam in the 55 degree pond out front and hula hooped for hours. They walked a tightrope and participated in the sweatlodge. Two people even took a hike in nothing but jogging gear, got lost, and spent the night on the mountain till dawn. Let me just tell ya'll the woods are dark up here, real dark and pretty chilly now too. Not to mention bears and such who would probably be attracted to them because they smell like fruit.
Four box trucks packed with fruit were delivered during the week and unloaded onto a refrigerated rental. They were easy to manage as guests after we figured out system for composting the four tons of fruit.
My manager was constantly worried about the compost pile as if it were some impending doom like The Blob. The pile consists of a three sided fence and that's it. There's really no way of overfilling it by dumping 'too much compost'. It lives just over the edge of the woods behind the garden shed. The fruits piled it high and it immediately started to break down... because that's what compost does. Being mostly water, it melted into what looked like a homogeneous mound covered by a calico bedspread. The the wasps arrived by the hundreds and sucked up the seeping sugar water oozing from the edges of the pile. To know in a few months that will have turned to rich compost is amazing. The only gripe I have is the smell. Most composting smells don't bother me and I've smell some nasties. I mean they stink but so what. But it's the durian fruit's composting stench that triggers nausea.Durian's a large spiky fruit form SE Asia which exudes a nasty sweet oniony sweat sock aroma when ripe. It's banned on airplanes and public transportation in some SE Asian cities. Of all the fruits the fruitarians consumed, the durian was their holy fruit, the most coveted. .. and they had cases of it! (I believe it is one of a few fruit that provide fats.) Crack it into segments with a cleaver and pry it apart revealing a custard-like fruit inside. Looked like a mass of melted white cheddar.
And yes I tasted it. Creamy sweet custard with a finish of garlic scallions. Something Oscar the grouch would love. I won't say it was bad or good, just strange and not my cup o' tea. It's rotting garbagey aroma is probably what tainted the flavor for me... and the taste lingered too long. I wiped my tongue with a paper towel and drank hot tea to cleanse my palate.
