Pawpaws are America’s largest edible native fruit, and their ineffable mystique will bring thousands of visitors to the farm’s annual pawpaw festival in late September. They grow abundantly in the wild here in central Pennsylvania and across much of the fruit’s native range, which spans 26 states as far west as the Great Plains and from northern Florida to Maine. But the pawpaw’s two- to three-week harvest window, short shelf life, and delicate skin still make it anathema to the rigid needs of grocery stores and a rare find even at farmers’ markets.

Despite the inherent obstacles to enjoying a pawpaw—and perhaps, in part, because of them—interest in the fruit continues to grow. Festivals in several states, mostly throughout September, give people a chance to taste the fruit for the first time or celebrate an old favorite.

Meanwhile, research and plant breeding efforts are underway to explore and expand its potential as a sustainable low-input, high-value crop that could figure into the future of small farms throughout the eastern U.S. If the pawpaw’s greatest admirers have their way, it will also show the way forward for a localized approach to agriculture that operates outside of the mass-produced mainstream.

Bono and his wife, Judy, manage 52 pawpaw trees on land they rent at Horn Farm Center for Agricultural Education, a regenerative agriculture nonprofit. Dick predicts well over 1,000 pounds of fruit this year, and he’ll need it all to satisfy the 2,000 visitors expected for the festival.

“We bring joy and happiness for that one little weekend in September,” Judy says.

While many at the festival will be getting their first exposure to the pawpaw, Dick, a land conservationist and retired architect, and Judy, a native plant enthusiast, have been enamored for 20 years now. They had tasted the hit-or-miss wild varieties that grow in the fertile soil along the Susquehanna River, but got hooked during a visit to Deep Run, a Maryland orchard with a range of pawpaw cultivars among its 1,000 trees.

They wanted to bring some of that sweetness north to York, so in 2004 they hosted a downtown dinner at Blue Moon Cafe that made pawpaw the star of the show. The French chef they hired turned out chicken with hot peppers and pawpaw, a salad with the fruit sliced fresh, pawpaw bread with pawpaw butter, and a crepe filled, of course, with pawpaw.

The dinner was a hit—and so were the modest events the Bonos began hosting in the driveway of Judy’s plant shop every September, letting friends and neighbors in on their little secret with pawpaw tastings, baked goods, ice cream, and salsas. When they planted their orchard 11 years ago, the gatherings turned into a festival, which soon outgrew anything they could manage themselves. Now, Horn Farm Center runs the show.

What started as a “quaint event,” in the words of the center’s executive director, Alexis Campbell, has expanded into a countywide, four-day festival. The festival includes tastings and cooking demonstrations, giving visitors a chance to appreciate the pawpaw and other crops native to the region, as well as tours exploring ecosystem restoration and biodynamic farming on nearby land.

The Pawpaw ‘Experience’

As the butterfly flutters between three rows of trees, its black and white wings vivid against their green foliage, Bono introduces the members of his orchard. The Canadian NC1 ripens early, with fewer smooth black seeds than other varieties. The Allegheny’s yellow flesh brings a pop of citrus flavor. The Susquehanna’s firm flesh is sweeter than most, and the Shenandoah, his favorite in the orchard, has a mild flavor and a custardy texture that everyone loves.

So much of the interest in the pawpaw is about curiosity, Bono says, both because of the fruit’s fickleness and the fact that it’s more akin to tropical cherimoya and soursop than anything else in its range. But the flavor keeps people coming back. “The taste,” he says, “is what it’s about.”

Jean Vargas would agree. A self-described “fruit hunter” who says he has tried some 700 varieties, he came from Florida for his first pawpaw festival in 2021. His first bite, which he says tasted of mango, banana, coconut, and vanilla, was “mind-blowing.”

“It was like going to heaven on a surfboard,” he says.

That weekend, Vargas spent nearly $100 on pawpaws, befriended the Bonos and other aficionados, and committed to coming back. He’s visited three years in a row and sounds pained to admit that work will keep him away this September. A festival is the best way to experience everything the pawpaw can offer, he says, even if it’s six states away.

“It’s mystical,” Vargas says.

Chris Chmiel of Integration Acres in Albany, Ohio, started the Ohio Pawpaw Festival in 1999 and has since heard countless stories of people’s relationships with the fruit he says has become “a symbol of our Appalachian heritage.” He had a “communal experience” with some pawpaws when he first launched the festival, asking for their blessing. It seems to have worked. His festival now draws in 10,000 people for pawpaw beers, a pawpaw cook-off, and a pawpaw-eating contest.

“Everyone’s got these stories that the pawpaw has been a part of for them. You don’t get that when you go to the grocery store and buy a banana,” Chmiel says. “It’s an experience.”

Pawpaw’s Agricultural and Ecological Benefits

As pawpaw aficionados often mention, it was George Washington’s favorite fruit, and Lewis and Clark relied on it for portions of their westward expedition. Its cultural connection to Appalachia runs deep. It’s the subject of a folk song and the namesake of towns in West Virginia, Illinois, Michigan, and Kentucky.

Today, it is emerging from this long history as the subject of renewed public interest, thanks to its varied ecological and agricultural attributes. For those investing in sustainable landscapes and watershed restoration, the pawpaw’s roots can hold stream banks in place and prevent runoff. On farms focused on agroforestry and silvopasture—the integration of livestock and trees—it’s a welcome neighbor, including at Integration Acres, where goats graze among the pawpaws but leave their fruit for humans to eat.

And, because it ripens after apples in many places, the pawpaw offers farmers a way to continue harvesting into the fall, and bring in extra income. At a time when most produce we eat is available year-round, the pawpaw’s seasonality is significant, says Tim Clymer, who specializes in unusual fruits at Threefold Farms in Mechanicsburg, an hour northwest of Horn Farm.

He grows blackberries, kiwi berries, persimmons, and figs, which were his primary crop until pawpaws took the mantle. With 160 trees in full production at the farm and nearly 300 more on the way, Threefold will contribute some of the 3,000 pounds of pawpaws sold at the festival.

The pawpaw has other advantages that set it apart from so many mainstream fruits, particularly from a farmer’s perspective. It’s high-value (Clymer sells it for $5 to $7 a pound and it goes for more elsewhere) and low-input (impervious to most insect and fungus pests, it can easily be grown organically). It can survive temperatures below freezing and, as a native fruit, it grows well with consistency in much of its home range.

That range is expanding as climate change brings warmer temperatures north, opening up nearly all of New England as an ideal climate for the pawpaw in the years to come. Increases in extreme weather, in the form of both drought and heavy rains and wind, however, could pose a long-term threat to the pawpaw, which thrives in the moist, nutrient-dense soil alongside bodies of water. For many years, though, festivals like those in Pennsylvania and Ohio will be well positioned to expand the fruit’s cult following.

Seeding a Sustainable System

“I was amazed to see there was this delicious, tropical fruit that grew here,” D’Angelo says. “And not only did it grow here, but it had evolved here.”

He planted his first tree when he was 11. At Project Pawpaw, a crowdfunded initiative focused on research, breeding, and market development, he’s working to seed a more resilient agricultural system, starting with the pawpaw. The organization opened its first large-scale research orchard this spring, planting 800 trees—enough to produce 10 tons of pawpaw once mature—on an acre in South Jersey, and has plans for two more, including one in Wisconsin.

D’Angelo’s goal is to develop pawpaws with firm flesh, great flavor, and thicker skin, so they don’t bruise quite so easily in transport. (The Bonos say they pack them in a single layer, laid over bubble wrap.) A color break from green to yellow, to signify ripeness, would allow farmers to harvest the fruit more efficiently. Currently, the only way to tell is by squeezing each one. With some improvements, the pawpaw could help diversify farms across the eastern U.S., D’Angelo says.

Alongside other native and perennial fruit and nut crops, the pawpaw can be part of a better agricultural future, he says, encouraging people to think beyond just what’s consistent and available in grocery stores. “We need to start embracing things that grow well where we are,” he says.

D’Angelo’s work will take a while to materialize—plant breeding always does. He doesn’t expect to release a new variety for 10 years. But in the meantime, researchers are finding other ways to improve the pawpaw’s viability for small farms. Kentucky State University has over 2,000 trees in its research program, which started in 1994, focused on fine-tuning propagation methods, orchard management, and ripening and storage techniques. Ohio State University started its own research in 2006, aiming to increase the pawpaw’s profitability for local growers. It hosts a conference each year to discuss production and marketing of the fruit.

“If we’re 10 to 15 years from a new variety, we might only be a couple years from telling farmers the best temperature to store their fruit—or we could develop a new harvest crate, so they don’t bruise,” D’Angelo says. “That’s what propelled the avocado.”

At Horn Farm Center, where neighbors tend a flourishing community garden a short distance from young hazelnuts, persimmons and elderberries, Campbell hopes the pawpaw can be part of something bigger than itself. With that in mind, this year’s festival, now called Wild & Uncommon Weekend, will widen its scope beyond the pawpaw to consider a range of native fruits that are central to the farm’s regenerative vision. The broader focus can educate visitors about “bioregional living,” a way of engaging with agriculture to elevate “what’s inherent and special about this particular climate, this particular land,” Campbell says.

Perennial crops like the pawpaw require little or no tillage, allowing them to improve soil health, sequester carbon, and prevent agricultural runoff into waterways, all while creating habitats for wildlife. For Campbell, that makes it a “gateway” to developing more locally focused and ecologically beneficial food systems.

To have that impact, though, the pawpaw needs to be more than a curiosity. The festivals, research, and personal connections with the fruit are all part of that journey.

“The pawpaw and the festival are a small glimpse of what could be,” she says.