I haven't posted many fall photos this year. It wasn't a very photogenic autumn, unfortunately, and I wasn't too enthusiastic about its arrival. I also wasn't too enthusiastic about revisiting the old staples of fall photos: "Leaves Turning", "Falling Leaves", "Fallen Leaves", "Wet Leaves In The Rain", etcetera. But I did take a few of the ginkgo trees in the Plaza Blocks in downtown Portland (just steps from the Thompson Elk fountain, btw). They're attractive trees, with unusual leaves that turn a bright golden color in the fall. They also drop a huge quantity of odd waxy-looking orange fruit, as shown in the next photo:
It all seems very nice and pleasant and photogenic and so forth, which is because there's currently no way to communicate odors over the interwebs. And if that technology existed, I would not inflict this smell on you, o Gentle Reader(s). When I took these photos, the air was thick with a sickening vomit-like stench. The little fruits, you see, are packed with foul-smelling butyric acid, and those that fall on the sidewalk are soon crushed underfoot into a slippery, orange, malodorous paste. It's really quite disgusting. But I endured it on your behalf in order to bring you these photos. You're welcome.
So I was surprised to see a couple of middle-aged Asian women with buckets gathering the fruit. It turns out that the stinky fruit contains a tasty edible nut, widely used in China and basically unknown and ignored here. There are recipes all over the net, though (see for example "Ginkgo Nut Custards", "Japanese Tempura Salad With Ginkgo Nuts", and "Shimeji Mushrooms and Ginkgo Nut Parcel"). I've never tried the nuts myself, but I'm happy to spread the word if it means more people will come and take the smelly fruits away.
You've probably seen various health-fad, not-evaluated-by-the-FDA ads touting ginkgo biloba as a miracle cure for assorted ailments. These, ah, unconfirmed health claims are for an extract of, not the fruit or the nut, but the leaves. But don't rush out and grab an armload of leaves just yet. They (and reportedly other parts of the tree) are also loaded with uroshiol, the same substance that makes poison oak itchy for most people. Apparently I'm not one of those people, which I consider an unusual bit of good fortune. Ginkgo leaves have never given me any trouble, nor have mango skins (mangoes are botanical cousins of poison oak, believe it or not). I also can't recall ever having trouble with poison oak, despite being an avid but somewhat inattentive hiker. (Although I make up for that by magically attracting every biting insect within a ten mile radius, so it's not all good news.)
The smell problem can be avoided by planting only male (and thus nonfruiting) trees. It's just that it's hard to tell the difference. You can do expensive DNA tests, or you can just plant the tree and wait a few decades (yes, decades) until it's ready to start reproducing and hope for the best. We seem to have chosen the latter option. If this was your backyard, you could always just chop the tree down and start over, but it's not that simple in a city park. There will be hearings, and debate, and well-meaning eco types will chain themselves to the trees, and then they'll get all itchy from touching them, and then they'll sue the city for emotional distress, and it'll all be a huge expensive hassle. So I imagine we'll be stuck with puke-smelling mush on our sidewalks for the foreseeable future. But at least the ginkgos are in a part of town where many of those they inconvenience are criminals, lawyers, politicians, bureaucrats, lobbyists, and journalists. A cynic might argue that the ginkgo odor is appropriate here, given these circumstances.
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