cherimoya

I learned the hard way that timing a cut on Annona cherimola, the cherimoya or custard apple as some still call it around San Diego, decides whether next season’

I once set a ripe cherimoya beside a mature breadfruit at a local tasting and watched visitors react to the contrast. One fruit invited a spoon;

I grafted an atemoya scion onto a cherimoya rootstock eight years ago and watched the two crops grow side by side on the same San Diego soil.

I have grown cherimoya on coastal San Diego ground for more than a decade and learned most of the useful lessons the hard way. The tips that follow come

I started my first cherimoya seedlings on a sunny kitchen counter in San Diego after scooping seeds from a market fruit. Five weeks later the first green

I bought a bag of small, knobby green fruits labeled sugar apple at a San Diego market and set them beside a soft cherimoya from my own trees.

I first tasted guanabana at a market stall near the border and immediately compared it to the cherimoyas ripening on my San Diego trees.

I cut into my first cherimoya on a warm afternoon in San Diego and hesitated at the green, scaly exterior. The flesh looked inviting, yet the skin felt

I still remember the first time a market vendor in San Diego handed me a fruit labeled custard apple. It looked similar to the cherimoyas I already grew

I planted my first cherimoya seeds in San Diego twelve years ago after scooping them from a soft fruit bought at a local market. The seeds sat in a warm