I’m sure this fruit is available in the States, but it’s not common in Los Angeles and I don’t think I’ve ever eaten it before.

And boy howdy, was I missing something.

It’s about the size of a chicken’s egg, with a little crown on top.

A young boy was selling bags of them on the street. He seemed startled that I didn’t know how to pronounce “feijoa,” but quickly warmed up to the idea that Americans are just generally ignorant.

I asked how they were usually eaten, and he said some people just bite right into them. Like so:

It’s not as unpleasant as biting right into an orange, but the outside is definitely bitter and fairly gritty. I smiled and finished it anyway, just to show the kid why Americans are famous for our bullheaded determination to finish what we start, even if it’s unpleasant and/or stupid.

When I got home I learned that the flesh on the inside is quite sweet and juicy:

So far, I’ve eaten maybe 100 of them.  When I get back to America, I may start a new life as Johnny Feijoaseed, walking the countryside and planting these little nuggets of yummy.

Some quick research shows that they are native of Brazil. Between these and Brazilian waxing, we have a lot to thank them for.