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Well into my adulthood, all I knew about prickly pears was that they are the fruit of a cactus, the Sicilians eat them, and that according to Baloo, they are a bear necessity. I’d filed them in the back of my mind to the “someday I’ll get to it” list, along with perfecting bechamel and giving a crap about edible foams.
But when I moved to California I saw them everywhere. Prickly pears are a common landscaping plant, one I’ve taken to growing in my own yard. They come in all sizes and colors, ranging from teeny to larger than an orange. The larger ones are worth eating as a fruit, but the little ones are best for prickly pear syrup, which is what I first made with this fantastic cactus fruit.
The first time I brought some home, life intervened and they sat in my fridge in that paper bag for nearly a month. Apparently prickly pears store really well in the fridge.
To make a syrup, you need to get these little flavor grenades out of their spiky skins. Second lesson learned: It’s not the big, seemingly vicious spines you need to worry about. It’s the hairlike “glochids,” which cover the fruit, that you need to worry about. Hated, evil glochids. Even the name sounds like some monster in a George Romero film.
With much cursing, I sliced off the skins and dropped the magenta centers into a bowl. I later learned that I was supposed to torch the pears briefly, which burns off the glochids. My friends Elise and Garrett have a method for skinning prickly pears that works well, too.
Once skinned, you now need to separate the seeds from the pulp. Garrett and several others say the seeds are edible, but they are either high or have far stronger teeth than I do; it’s like eating a wood chip. Now I’ve dealt with removing seeds for a syrup before, no time worse than with the fig syrup. Fortunately prickly pear seeds are about 100 times larger than fig seeds, so this step was no biggie.
I buzzed the pulp in a blender, then through a food mill with the coarse die — just large enough to block the seeds. You could stop here, but I am something of a fanatic when it comes to clarity; I developed this particular neurosis from making wine. So I passed the pulpy juice through a fine-meshed sieve and then through cheesecloth.
After that, I added an equal volume of sugar and brought it to a simmer to thicken a little. Prickly pears are loaded with vitamin C, and this is a vitamin that’s destroyed by heat, so I wanted to limit the heat as much as possible. Once the sugar was good and dissolved, I turned off the heat and added some citric acid.
Why? Third lesson learned: Prickly pears, which taste like a combination of bubble gum, watermelon and strawberries, are mostly lacking in tartness. An exception is the variety the Mexicans call xoconostle. Without tartness, fruit is not very tasty. Why citric acid? I wanted a neutral acid, not lemon juice. They’re close, but not the same. Lemons bring other flavors to the party, and I wanted this to be prickly pear’s show.
The result? Pure magenta power.
This stuff rocks. The citric acid gives it just the right tang, and it brings out the watermelon-bubblegum elements and holds the color; it’s also a good preservative.
My initial use: Mixed with tequila, of course. Cactus and Cactus. Duh! After that obligatory start, I made a sorbet, a vinaigrette for a salad, a souffle, and a glaze for game birds.
Here is the full glazed pheasant recipe, and keep in mind it works just fine with a regular chicken, and with other glazes such as maple syrup, honey or another fruit syrup.
What’s the takeaway? Stretch a bit. Expand your horizons and work with new flavors. Some, like this one, will become new staples for your personal kitchen.
[recipe_name]Prickly Pear Syrup[/recipe_name]
[summary]This is a pretty standard syrup recipe, but using the brilliant magenta fruits of the prickly pear cactus as the fruit. Commercial versions of this syrup are used for fancy margaritas or are poured over pancakes; two excellent ideas.
I strongly advise you to buy citric acid for this recipe. You can often find it in the canning aisle of the supermarket under names like “Fruit Fresh” and the like. You can also buy it at homebrew supply stores. Prickly pears lack any sort of acid tang and need something to keep them from being insipid. Lemons work fine, but I want base ingredients like a syrup to be pure in flavor.
This recipe is a guide: Prickly pears come in all sizes and sweetness levels, so use your taste buds and common sense. My pears were small, mostly about the size of limes. And they were sweet, but not overly so.[/summary]
[yield]Makes 1 quart of syrup.[/yield]
Prep Time:[preptime time=45M] 45 minutes[/preptime]
Cook Time:[cooktime time=30M] 30 minutes[/cooktime]
- [ingredient] [amount]5 pounds[/amount] [item]prickly pears[/item] [/ingredient]
- [ingredient] [amount]3 cups[/amount] [item]sugar[/item][/ingredient]
- [ingredient] [amount]1 tablespoon[/amount] [item]citric acid[/item] or the juice of 2 lemons[/ingredient]
[instructions]
- After the pears have been peeled, puree them in a food processor. There will be lots of seeds that you’ll need to filter out. For a clear syrup, push everything through a coarse food mill grate or colander — something just large enough to catch the seeds. Take your time and get all the pulp you can. Now run the pulp and juice through a fine mesh sieve. If you really want to get fancy, run the sieved juice through cheesecloth. This is what I did. You should have about 3 cups of juice. Pour this in a heavy pot and add the sugar — whatever your juice volume is, add that much sugar.
- Bring it to a simmer over medium heat. Let it simmer for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let it cool for 15 minutes. Add the lemon juice or citric acid. Add a little at a time and taste it. Stop adding when it is tart enough for you.
- Pour while still hot into clean Mason jars and seal. This should keep for months in the fridge, or you could probably process it in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes and keep it in the pantry; the citric acid helps preserve the syrup.
[/instructions]
I have a NJ Italian friend who transplanted himself to Tucson, AZ. He makes a great prickly pear mead.
Thanks for the mention…that pheasant looks truly divine!
When I was a young boy living and traveling in Mexico, we ate cactus tunas to such a degree that it caused me some panic when I urinated a brilliant magenta colour!
Not high in the slightest. Most likely. Probably. Depends on when you catch me.
Anyways, love the idea of adding citric acid. I usually just toss in a squeeze of lime juice but I’m sure your way keeps the flavor pure and bubblegum like. As for the thorns? Heavy gloves and the use of fire takes them out pretty quickly. =)
I’ve enjoyed everything from nopalitos on a salad to prickly pear liqeur, and I think they’re a wonderful thing.
But I wouldn’t want the bloody things in my yard. They WILL take over!
I’ve a funny (now, not then) story about a young guy who looks a lot like me and has the same name, who once set a squirrel trap and sat under a pine tree to wait for his quarry. Unbeknownst to the boy, under the pine tree was a nice little patch of prickly pear, barely covered by a mound of pine needles. Under the sadistic ministrations of his grandmother, we learned yet another use for duct tape!
On a recent trip to Albuquerque, I harvested a bunch of prickly pears from a giant cactus growing in front of an office building (the people on their cigarette break looked at me like I was crazy). I washed off the glochids (after discovering their presence the hard way), cut them in half, scooped out the flesh, and ran it through a sieve.
When I asked New Mexicans what to do with the juice, they all said “Margaritas!” But I’m thinking of cooking it down and making a quince/prickly pear preserve. Northeast meets Southwest.
Thank you for the idea of adding pure citric acid. I could not get my first batch of PP syrup to taste the way I wanted it to, and will try your recipe when I attempt my next batch.
And there is just no way to properly describe the evil of the glochids. A horrid cluster of micro-pains which gel together into finger-tip-burning awfulness.
Hank-
In Lebanon, prickly pears are a very popular refreshing fruit. It is peeled and served chilled, just like watermelon. I love it’s melon/berry taste. BTW, the seeds are edible, but not “chewable”. I know this makes no sense, but I would eat the fruit whole and simply swallow the seeds. They are supposed to aid digestion (not sure if that is true). Others suck on the pulp and simply spit the seeds out.
Josh: Let the record note that I gave Hank the evil eye for tossing those seeds in the front yard, right by the front door, you know, because it’ll make such a great welcome plant.
I love making Prickly Pear wine every year (I made prickly pear fruit and dandelion flower wine this year), and I’ve made a fair amount of Prickly Pear cordials too, this year I made a prickly pear and wild rose tequila cordial with desert wildflower honey that was just barely sweet and very flavorful.
We also de-stickerize the fruit and dry them to use in tea.
We also make a similar glaze to yours with prickly pear, juniper berries, spices etc Prickly pear, depending on how long you cook it down etc can be quite light and berry like, and I’ve found it to very nice for wild turkey.
Jay: Definitely go do that — bet prickly pears would go well with venison.
LiveToHunt: Mojito, eh? Meaning mint and prickly pear? Worth a try.
Amy: They may grow near you. You never know…
Kyle: Holy crap! I can only imagine.
Josh: I tossed all the seeds into my front yard, so if a cactus grows, so be it. As for the elderberry glaze on turkey, yeah. it’ll work, but to me it seems to dark and heavy for turkey. Better for duck or goose. Do something lighter for the turkey.
Susan: Yep, same Michael Tuohy. I will pass on your message!
Vyki: Wow. Nice tutorial. Definitely makes me more eager to pick another batch of prickly pears knowing a better way to avoid the spines. Oh, and I love that the foxes figured this out, too!
I love making things out of prickly pears. I live on an island so badly wrecked its one of the few wild edibles we can collect. Recently we have discovered a new way to pick and process them.
Before picking the fruits we make a brush out of dead grass and brush all of the spines from the fruit and the pick with a gloved hand. or some of us prefer to pick with bbq tongs and then gently roll them in the grass to remove the spines. (like the island foxes do) If you collect the fruits with out first removing the spines you risk getting spines stuck in other fruits in your bag.
To process the prickly pear fruits, we first wash them to remove any remaining glochids, and then peel the skin off with a knife. (If you use a towel to remove the nodes on the fruit, you may eat the skin too.)
The secret we seem to have discovered is then to slice the fruits in half length wise and scoop out the seeds and dark pulp into a bowl, and then also reserve the flesh of the fruit that was between the dark centers and the outer skin.
The juice is removed from the seeds by cooking briefly and then straining through cheese cloth to remove the seeds.
Then you have too separate parts to work with, a dark sweet rich juice from the centers and and a bright tart flesh.
Recently we have made cobblers with the tart flesh, and frozen the juice into ice cubes– and slowly used the cubes to make smoothies, home-made candy, and a syrup for coconut flan.
Is it possible that the Chef Michael Tuohy you mention the gentleman who had a resto in Atlanta called Woodfire Grille? If so, when next you see him, please advise we miss him quite a lot. He is a lovely man.
Ugh, I grew up in Southern California and my mom made jam from prickly pears. So when I was a kid I was tasked with diving in and picking them in the enormous cactus forest that was our back yard. The painful, itchy memories kind of put me off them for about 20 years. But a year or two ago I bought some in the store and made a Prickly Pear Cranberry Sauce for Thanksgiving, which turned out fairly well. I do like the watermellony-ness of them, and yeah, great with Tequila.
When I read that you thought they were hard to find, my head shook. But, I remember that we come from different places.
I grew up on candied tunas, “tunas” being the Mexican word for them (probably Spanish, but having married a Nicaraguan, I’ve found out that many of my “spanish” words are Mexican).
Perhaps you should grow one – you can get nopales out of them, too, which I love.
About glazes, my elderberry jam is tart (in a good way), and I’m thinking of making it a glaze for a turkey. Suggestions?
A friend of mine fell into a prickly pear patch once, while wearing shorts and little else… He still winces after 60 years.
That’s really cool. I’m sure I can find some (place that ships) if I look hard enough….I have an inkling that I’d love to have some of this!
OMG, those fine hairs are indeed the devil. We had an 8 foot prickly pear that produces lots and lots of fruit and god forbid you touch one of those things sans a heavy glove. As for what else to do – me thinks a prickly pear mojito would be awesome.
For the benefit of your readers, I must add that the prickly pear margarita was DIVINE, once I got over the fact that it resembled magenta antifreeze. That stuff is quite fluourescent… But yeah, I got over that pretty quickly. YUM!
This is amazing. I grew up deer hunting in South Texas where were surrounded by prickly pears but never once thought of doing anything with them. If I ever get a chance to go again and collect some cacti, I’m coming back to you for recipes!