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Updated: June 14, 2025
It is either eaten plain, or seasoned with salt, oil, and vinegar. "The avocado pear-tree, I should think, has no relations among trees!" said Lucien, smiling. "Yes, certainly it has. It belongs to the Laurel family, and is the only member of it which produces eatable fruit. Its connections, though, occupy an important position in domestic economy.
The avocado or alligator pear is not grown to any extent, though it thrives well, particularly to the north of the tropic of Capricorn, and can also be grown successfully as far south as the New South Wales border.
The very best butter I have ever eaten out of Ireland now, some of that avocado pear and as for biscuit, Leman never came up to it. I say, man, hillo, where are you? rouse ye out of your brown study, man." "Did you hear that, Mr Cringle?" "Hear what? I heard nothing," rejoined I; "but hand me over that land crab.
The Glass Cat had been greatly interested in the Gray Ape's story and was curious to see what the giant soldiers looked like. Hearing that their heads extended above the tree-tops, the Glass Cat decided that if it climbed the tall avocado tree that stood at the side of the clearing, it might be able to see the giants' heads.
Nothing more definite was decided, and meanwhile she went on quietly with the beginnings of things. She planted fruit trees sent up by the Government, mangoes, guavas, pawpaws, bananas, plantains, avocado pears, as well as pineapples, and other produce, and began to think of rubber and cocoa. She also started to accumulate stock, though the leopards were a constant menace.
Also, in and about their grass-thatched bungalow under the lofty avocado trees, Michael would have found other pet cats, and kittens, and pigs, donkeys and ponies, a pair of love-birds, and a mischievous monkey or two; but never a dog and never a cockatoo. For Dag Daughtry, with violence of language, had laid a taboo upon dogs. After Killeny Boy, he averred, there should be no other dog.
I don't mind that much. Never could stand for these rough-necks that claim they'd rather have a good, healthy walloping country wench than a nice, refined city lady. Why, I like refinement! Yes, sir, I sure do!... Well, it sure was some trip. Guess we won't forget it in a hurry, eh? Sure is nice to rub up against some Southern swells like we did that night at the Avocado Club.
The huts of negro slaves were near the sugar mills, without regard to order, but in clusters of banana, avocado- pear, limes and oranges, and with the cultivated land round their huts made an effective picture.
When I had done with them I got out Scudder's little black pocket-book and studied it. It was pretty well filled with jottings, chiefly figures, though now and then a name was printed in. For example, I found the words 'Hofgaard', 'Luneville', and 'Avocado' pretty often, and especially the word 'Pavia'.
Then I'm to take you to the second storage hut and tell you we've got a new kind of avocado stored in there, and let you go in ahead of me, and I'm to slam the spring-lock door on you." "Hm! That all, Davy?" "Yes, sir. Except of course that it's a lie. Hade don't play jokes or have fun with any one.
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