Lychees by the score

"When I kiss you it will be an important event, 

like ones first taste of lychee."

(Lord Peter Wimsey in Have His Carcase)

For some inexplicable reason, I had lived my 68 years without once tasting lychee. I've seen it many a time on the desert menu at Chinese restaurants, but banana fritters have always won the day. Maybe the name sounded too much like leaches to tempt me. 

Photo from Naomi Schillinger's Out of my Shed blog

'Twas a couple of Saturdays ago that my lychee famine ended. Almost every Saturday morning finds me at the fruit & veg stall in our small open-air market. The vegetables are, without fail, unquestionably fresh. Unlike their supermarket cousins, they do not shine in artificial light and (shock horror) often have soil on them.  But, despite refreshingly low prices, I like to think that the producers have received a fair return for their labours and have not been driven to near-bankruptcy because their parsnips are not the regulation length, their courgettes the wrong shade of green or their carrots too spindly and not brilliant orange. Incidentally, have you tasted purple carrots? Very nice they are, and once a common sight before we were all taught that carrots should be orange.

But this is supposed to be a post about lychees, not carrots, so back to the market. At the left hand end of the stall lies the fruit. There are always apples (frequently Russetts, yum yum) and usually plums, grapes and peaches. On this particular Saturday, though, they were joined by a tray of small, rough-skinned green and red things.  "They're lychees," said the lady behind the stall. "Try one."  I did, peeling back the thick skin to reveal a firm white pulp. "Very nice," said I — though whether as nice as being snogged by Lord Peter Wimsey, I couldn't possibly speculate.  "I'll have some, please."

One week later... "Those lychees were lovely," said I. "Here, have this lot!" said she, "They're past their best, so I can't sell them."  Which is why I came home with about 3 times as many lychees as the week before.

Here they are in my fruit bowl. If you click the photo to enlarge it, you'll see that some have a fine coating of mildew, so definitely 'past their best'. However, this is simply the result of juice from the pulp permeating the skin; when the skin is peeled off, the fruit beneath is perfectly fine.

It was, however, clear that those lychees wouldn't remain edible for much longer, so last night I set about peeling and stoning all but the most healthy-looking specimens, and planning to breakfast on them. 

Thanks to Slimming World, I have discovered the delights of Overnight Oats. For this I put 35g of oats into a jug, plop in 200g of fat-free yogurt and top it with a handful of fruit — usually something squashy like blackberries but this time, of course, chopped lychees. I then stick the jug in the fridge, where it remains overnight.  According to Slimming World, the 'jug' should actually be a sealable container (like one of those old Kilner jars) but I've never understood the reason for this. Maybe some folk have smelly fridges.  Anyway, by breakfast time the yogurt and fruit have soaked into the oats. A final whisk with a spoon, and I end up with this...

Believe me, it's very yummy; perhaps more so with blackberries or raspberries, but yummy nonetheless. And for those of us wedded to the Slimming World plan, it has no syns and doesn't eat into the dairy (Healthy 'A') allowance.

And now I see that I still have 8 lychees.  What shall I do with them?