It started when I was about knee-high, perched around the table at my grandparents’ house in Menlo Park. My grandfather told me to eat a prune. They’re good for you, he said. I looked at the strange, wrinkled orb and thought: whoa, that’s asking too much. My response was a lot less sophisticated. I probably jumped out of the chair and ran into the small yard shaded by a Meyer lemon tree. Strange enough, it’s the only conversation with my grandfather that I remember. He believed in prunes, but he also believed in Scotch, cigarettes, and covert ops.
Later on, our dad got into the business. He became an international prune salesman. It’s moderately safer than covert ops. He sold prunes to Japanese baking companies. He said Japanese women eat prunes to improve their complexion. He ate smoked prunes in China. (“Smoked for two weeks!” he said. “They tasted like an ash tray!”) He told us that in Korea, one wealthy eccentric had become something of a prune evangelist, urging his countrymen to eat prunes for their health.
It’s not only Asia that has embraced the prune. The French also love their pruneau. Some folks swear it’s because the French prune plum is superior. I’m here to report that it’s really not. It’s pretty much the same thing, just with the pit (most prunes sold in the U.S. are pitted). In Britain, alas, it’s a different story. There, eaters are more repelled than Americans at the idea of prunes. It probably stems from the experience of eating stewed prunes in cafeterias. Prunes, it is safe to say, should never come from a can. (An aside: the British are also appalled by the idea of “tossing” raisins on breakfast cereal, as one famous raisin co-op learned the hard way. Let’s just say that “tossing” does not mean to “sprinkle on top of” and it is certainly something you don’t want to do around cereal.)
When you grow up with an international prune salesman for a dad, you hear about a lot of other foods and food experiences that are less familiar stateside. Take, for example, the seven-course eel meal in Japan (Fried eel backbones were one of the courses.) You also learn to accept the prune as a normal food to eat without any sort of embarrassment. In fact, they’re quite delicious with the right foods. Chocolate is good (chocolate-covered prunes are a hit in Poland); so is yogurt. And yes, prunes have other properties too—a result of the combination of fiber and sorbitol— but really, I don’t need to get into that here.
The point of all this? Prunes deserve more domestic evangelism. The rest of the world seems to understand their value. Take New Zealand. Their per-capita prune consumption is up 40%. Here, though, I bet people are embarrassed to put them in their grocery cart. The prune board hasn’t helped – c’mon, is renaming it “dried plum” really going to make a difference? But the New York Times has. In 2008 its wellness blog listed prunes among the 11 healthiest foods that we’re not eating enough of. My former work colleagues know how I feel about the situation. They gave me a bag of prunes on my last day. (Gold label! So thoughtful!) So, to borrow from an old prune (dried plum?) board slogan, I repeat the headline:
“Eat a prune, start a movement.”
