Super Fruit

curb one's passions. They were bland and flavorless, exactly what lustful patients at his sanatorium needed to keep their hands off each other and themselves. And thanks to botanist William Hughes's work in South America during the seventeenth century, people all over America and Europe now enjoy piping hot cups of cocoa every winter. But before one particular item showed up in grocery stores and farmers markets, it stood as

a symbol for wealth and aristocracy. It was discussed as though it would have been handcrafted by the House of Faberge itself. For those privileged enough to afford it, This item originally hailed from South America, where the two Pamba people grew and ate it. According to an English translation of Andre Tovey's fifteen sixty eight original French account The New Found World, it was called hairiri. But these things were notoriously difficult to transport, making the rare few that

found their way to Europe prohibitively expensive. Christopher Columbus had encountered them back in the late fourteen hundreds and had even tried to grow his own once he returned to Spain, but failed. These fruits could only be grown in a tropical climate. It wasn't until the mid sixteen hundreds when John Evelyn, and English gardener, discovered the key to growing hiri res in local hot houses. His efforts proved uh fruitful,

but were expanded upon by a later gardener around seventy. However, despite England's success at growing them, by the eighteenth century, hohiri rees hadn't shed their exorbitant price tags due to the level of carot took to cultivate them. Royal monarchs and the upper class hired gardeners to grow the elusive fruits. They also spent unfathomable amounts of money for the privilege of eating what few could get their hands on. Rich Americans living in the colonies at the time also treated

the hiriri as a status symbol. They brought theirs in from the Caribbean rather than Europe, and paid the equivalent of about eight thousand dollars today just to display them in their homes. And that's right. Due to their high price tags and difficulty in importing them, colonists didn't eat them right away. They were centerpieces, something for guests to admire during parties and formal gatherings. It wasn't until they started rotting when the fruits would be carved up and eaten.

For those who couldn't afford to buy one out right, a booming rental business popped up, allowing the less affluent a lease one for the night to show off to friends at family The following day, the item would be returned to the merchant for someone else to rent next. It didn't matter that they didn't own it, because for one evening, the average person could feel like royalty and make their peers jealous at the same time. Now, just looking at the hiriri, one wouldn't think that they were

all that glamorous. Their exteriors are brown, hard and spiky. A tall collection of green waxy leaves springs from the top, like in eruption. Frozen in time, they were unbecoming, but their rarity made them coveted among society's elite. For over two hundred years. The hiriri was also featured in patterns that appeared on fabrics, wallpapers, and furniture. Those who couldn't have the real thing settled for copies carved or printed

onto other surfaces. And then, in nineteen hundred, one man figured out a way to bring that beloved fruit to the masses. His name was James Dole, an American industrialist who had moved out to Honolulu, Hawaii, one year earlier to start his business. With just sixteen thousand dollars to his name, James bought himself a sixty four acre farmland on the island of Oahu, where he started growing hiri rees. Within seven years, he was canning and packing them for

distribution throughout the United States. He grew his modest operation into a massive plantation, sadly by exploiting foreign labor by paying them the lowest wages possible, and those ruthless business practices, eliminated nearly all of his competitors and turned his dull food company into one of the most successful corporations in the world. But nobody today knows what a hiri re is,

despite its importance throughout history. That's because Andre Tovey didn't have another name for it at the time that he wrote his account, But based on the clues he left, historians believe he actually had encountered a fruit found in many foods we enjoy today, including sangria, upside down cakes, and you better believe it. Occasionally on pizza, the fruit

was the pineapple. There are some coincidences that seem too wild to be ignored, the kinds of coincidences where you have to wonder if there are other forces at play, like, for instance, how Stephen Hawking just happens to share his birth and death date with Galileo and Albert Einstein, or how Violet Jessup survived not one or even two, but three major ocean liner sinkings. Then there are other coincidences of absolutely no consequence whatsoever, having nothing to do with

life or death, but are all still remarkably unexplainable. That's the kind of coincidence that nineteenth century poets Emile de Champ found himself in a star poet of his time. The Shamp found his inspiration in Victor Hugo, and his writing would earn the praise of Napoleon himself. Yet words would not be able to describe what was set in

motion the day the Champ was first introduced to plum pudding. Now, when the Shamp was still a teenager, he happened upon an English immigrant with the curious name of Messieur Defourgebou. There is very little known about this person, but the one thing he is known for is being the man who took it upon himself to show Emil de Shamp the wonder of the very English dessert called plum pudding.

It turns out to Shamp liked it. He didn't love it per se, but he did enjoy it, And after that he bid for Jabu Adeu, and the two go on their separate ways, not even a notable stop on the timeline in either of their lives. But fast forward ten years now, in the throes of his poetry accolades, the Shamp was walking through Paris, taking in the sights. He was looking for a snack something to satiate his cravings. When he passed a French restaurant and check the menu,

and there it was plum pudding. The Shamp proceeded to go into the restaurant and order the pudding, only to be told that's unfortunately, sir, the last had just been sold. But the waiter called out into the restaurant, Mossieur defourgebou, would you be willing to share your plum pudding with

this gentleman? And sure enough, there in the back of the restaurant was the man who had introduced De Shamp to the plum pudding in the first place, and they met again over plum pudding, in a situation that must have given them both a good laugh. Fast forward several more years and de Shamp found himself at a dinner party socializing with his circle of close friends. At some point, though, the host stepped into the room and announced that dessert

was about to be served. And if you have any doubts as to what that dessert would be, you're clearly not listening. In a most improbable happenstance, that dessert is the very English plum pudding. Now I know what you're wondering, but where was Massieur Defourgebou, and was de Shamps thinking about him? Which is when the doorbell rang and the host announced the arrival of a new guest, none other than Messieur Defourgebou. The Shamps, as you might imagine, was

blown away. Sure, the years had taken their toll on both of these men, but the Champs recognized the paragon of plum pudding standing right there in the flesh. Only Defourgebou did not stay long. It only took a moment before he realized that he had arrived at the wrong apartment. He had been invited to a dinner party, for sure, but it wasn't that one, and so he turned to leave, unaware that the desserts about to be served was the very dessert he's so strongly advocated for all those years ago.

It would be, however, the last time the two men would see each other alive. An amazing string of coincidences and a fantastic set of stories. There's no way to explain them, but at least we get to enjoy them now, and I think we can at least agree on exactly how to classify such random coincidental meetings. Utterly curious. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple pod Guests, or learn more

about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the World of Lore dot com. And until next time, stay curious. Yeah,