NOLA Misbeliefs aka Chinese Plums Season *Loquats

After seeing that post earlier of that branch of Misbelief’s, I decided to revive one of my blogs and map out a plan of where to find a tree today. I saw a Misbelief Tree on Marginy and St.Claude one day that had me wanting to knock on the door or climb the fence to get a few branches of the tasty sweet fruit. I’m sure the owners of the property had to be a transplant (someone who moved to New Orleans from another state), because no sane New Orleans person would ever have a tree bearing fruit that we would let rot on the tree, fall to the grown and rot and let the birds and squirrels eat our free treats from Mother Nature.

I’m still mad.. they really need to move like why??🤷🏾

My Auntie cut down a pecan tree and I nearly died, but she she said it was dying or something along that line… I hope. Recently, an abandoned overgrown lot full of berry vines, fruit trees and vegetables was leveled out, flattened, demolished of all life.. Thankfully, days prior I was able to easily uproot a small fig tree. I planted it in a large pot and once it gets bigger I’ll find a nice home for it in the yard.

Since Katrina and gentrification, there aren’t enough native New Orleanians to take pride in these gifts.


A childhood favorite that had me in a many of yards trespassing is what it would be considered now, just to get my fingers on these sweet little things. I remember jumping over fences, looking out for dogs and though I never was told to get out of someone’s yard, I heard a plenty of stories about friends who were. Some who were either really brave or needed the Misbeliefs so bad they would go into yards known for dogs, mean old ladies and climb so high after seeing the ripest ones on higher branches that they fell and more than likely walking around with a fracture that set itself and giving them problems, because they could not and would not be able to tell their Mama they climbed and fell out of a Misbelief Tree..😂⚜

I’m sad to tell yall that on my NOLA walks I have noticed a many of trees with branches of fruit rotting and drying up, because of two things I believe; #1 the “transplants” people who relocated here have no idea what a priceless tasty delicacy they possess and #2 there are not enough natives/locals here to eat them up.

Since, I know it’s Misbelief Season I plan to hit different streets on my NOLA walks and go around my old school areas, I know I will find a few trees around there.

Photo credit Jalis Lewis




Watching NOLA Nature


These little fruit trees grow all over the city. We have one in the back yard, and the fruit is delicious, like a sweet apricot with a little kiwi or banana mixed in. Loquats are often called “misbeliefs” by local children, and the reason that I have found that makes the most sense is that Italian immigrants long ago, who may have actually brought these trees to New Orleans, called them Mespila or or Nespolo, the common name in Italy. Which somehow was changed to misbelief over time. Ours are still a bit sour to eat, but they’ll be ready by Jazz Fest if not before.

TheMisbelief- sweet street fruit juice for your soul

NOLA Social Life and Community Outreach Blog With a Twist!!!

If you haven’t heard of the Misbelief Show hosted by DC PauL, Oshun, Martin ‘Bats’ Bradford, Malik Bartholomew, & J. Steel on WBOK and https://themisbelief.podbean.com/ check them out, they are known for their love of the Nola fruit so much they named their show after it!

…I’ve heard chinese plum, japanese plum, loquat, japonica… but did you know that only people in New Orleans (and maybe only people of a certain generation in New Orleans) call them Misbeliefs? 

…you’ve probly seen them… they seldom grow in your own yard, but haphazardly with wild branches from the yard of the shotgun house right next to your grandma’s, and it kinda bled onto her property because nobody actually planted the tree or took care of it… but it served its purpose… why “Misbelief” tho? 

…some say that Italian immigrants long ago, who may have actually brought these trees to New Orleans, called them “Mespilus” or “Nespolo,” the common name in Italy… a google search for these two names show a very similar and related fruit, but not quite the same as a Misbelief… dem flowers don’t look the same to me… but wut sounds right to me, is a New Orleanian mispronunciation of a word in another language… wut sounds right is for care, detail, and history to forget something so unique that freely produces beauty and bittersweetness in its season… or maybe it’s just a loquat… wut’s your Misbelief story? #TheMisbelief

TheMisbelief RadioShow plays ONLY local New Orleans recording artists.  If you would like your radio friendly music played, contact TheMisbelief@gmail.com

Who is DC Paul has partnered with Froot New Orleans, and they offer a fruit salad loaded with Misbeliefs! What a great way to use these goodies, especially with so many tree fruit left to rot.

To get you some of TheMisbeLief Punch, emaiL TheMisbeLief@gmaiL.comfor orders.


DC Paul is also known for his New Orleans liquor infused Misbelief punch, and it’s so good.

https://www.whoisdcpaul.com/ To get you some of TheMisbeLief Punch, email TheMisbeLief@gmaiL.com for orders

We need to educate people on this Nola Grown Sweet Treat and continue to pass down the tradition of grabbing a few branches to snack on. The issue with neighborhoods in New Orleans now is that we are losing the village mentality. Our children can not directly go into a neighbors yard to pick fruit off their tree without risking their lives. Back in the day the worst consequence was being greeted by a dog or being told to stay out the yard; which only happened if you forgot to close their gate or spat seeds on the ground.

If you have a Misbelief (Loquat/ChinesePlum) tree in your yard, please pick the fruit and ask DC Paul and Froot Nola for a Misbelief Fruit recipe!

Host a kids Pick a Treat Party, a picking contest and so on they will love it. Plus, you will not have a tree with rotten fruit or a yard of fruit droppings and possibly no more Misbeliefs for the rest of the season.

You can give them away or sell the fruit at the farmers market as well.

If all else fails holla at me, I’ll gladly pick and eat anytime. Lol

What are Misbelief fruit:

Loquats are unusual among fruit trees in that the flowers appear in the autumn or early winter, and the fruits are ripe at any time from early spring to early summer.[11]The flowers are 2 cm (1 in) in diameter, white, with five petals, and produced in stiff panicles of three to ten flowers. The flowers have a sweet, heady aroma that can be smelled from a distance.[citation needed]

Loquat fruits, growing in clusters, are oval, rounded or pear-shaped, 3–5 centimetres (1–2 in) long, with a smooth or downy, yellow or orange, sometimes red-blushed skin. The succulent, tangy flesh is white, yellow or orange and sweet to subacid or acid, depending on the cultivar.

Each fruit contains from one to ten ovules, with three to five being most common.[12] A variable number of the ovules mature into large brown seeds (with different numbers of seeds appearing in each fruit on the same tree, usually between one and four). 

The fruits are the sweetest when soft and orange. The flavour is a mixture of peach, citrus and mild mango.



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A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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