Fruit and Vegetable Trademarks

White Alba truffles from the Piedmont region of Italy—and black winter truffles from Périgord, France—are a fount of gastronomic legends. A black truffle and foie gras soup, served with a puff pastry topping, is the signature recipe of the late, great French chef, Paul Bocuse.  My first indelible taste of a White Alba truffle came shaved atop a Carnaroli Risotto Biologico with a Castelmagno Mousse, served at Per Se, Chef Thomas Keller’s restaurant in Manhattan—at $175 per plate (in 2011).
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No, this post is not about the Thanksgiving antics of eccentric relatives.  Rather, it describes patented varieties of almonds, walnuts and pecans they may crack open with vintage nutcrackers—making a gleeful mess before dinner is served.

Tree nuts still resist the specific varietal trademark branding now associated with former fruit commodities, such as the Pink Lady® or forthcoming Cosmic Crisp™ apples.  Patent rights in undifferentiated fruit or vegetable produce usually focus on solving grower or industry facing concerns, instead of directly appealing to consumer taste preferences.

This post spotlights tree nut grower issues—as revealed by recently issued U.S. plant patents—and offers some tasty uses for this trio of very healthy, but seemingly under-utilized foodstuffs.[1]

Almond Trees Named ‘Kester’ and ‘Alm-21’

The most recent almond plant patent to emanate out of the UC Davis plant breeding powerhouse is for an almond variety named ‘Kester.’  The appellation is a tribute to the late Dr. Dale Kester, a highly regarded professor known for his work on the genetics and physiology of almonds.

Perusal of the ‘Kester’ plant patent specification discloses the “need for the development of new varieties capable of acting as a pollinizer for the California variety ‘Nonpariel’ (non-patented in the United States.)”  The ‘Nonpariel’ almond variety is California’s leading almond and accounts for almost 40% of total almond planted acreage.  Your reigning  flavor profile of an almond is probably a result of consuming ‘Nonpariel’ almonds.

The basic almond grower’s issue is this: the ‘Nonpariel’ almond variety—like most commercial almond varieties—is “self-sterile and requires pollen from cross-compatible varieties for successful seed sets.”  The much planted ‘Carmel’ almond variety in California formerly served this complementary pollinizing function, but has succumbed over time to a genetic disorder—non-infectious bud failure.  The ‘Kester’ almond fills in the breach as a pollinizer variety with a “good overlap with the later ‘Nonpariel’ variety bloom.”

Given the widespread publicity regarding a dramatic fall-off in bee colony populations, one can readily understand why another relatively recent almond plant patent is taking the California almond growers market by storm.  It is for an interspecific almond tree named ‘Alm-21’ invented by the Zaiger family (of Zaiger’s Inc. Genetics).  It is trademarked as the Independence® almond.

The ‘Alm-21’ patent specification underscores the Independence® almond’s increasing market significance for almond growers:

This new and distinct interspecific almond tree ([AlmondxPeachxAlmond)], is of large size, vigorous upright growth and a productive and regular bearer of soft shell nuts with kernels having excellent flavor similar to ‘Nonpariel’ Almond (non-patented).  *  *  *

The primary difference between the new variety and ‘Nonpariel’ . . . is the new variety is self fertile and ‘Nonpariel’ . . . is self sterile and needs a pollinator tree planted near to fertilize the flowers to produce almonds.  (Emphasis added.)

The plight of declining bee populations is causing almond growers to shift their plantings to the ‘Alm-21’/Independence® almond variety.  “In 2016, one quarter of all new almond acres were planted to the self-fertile Independence[®] variety” with many of these new almond trees being planted in the southern portions of the San Joaquin Valley.[2]

Want to diversify your family’s consumption of almonds?   Consider making your own almond milk from scratch.[3]  It is slowly, but deliciously supplanting cow’s milk in my diet.


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Orange blogOranges possess a special cachet in the American dream.  Growing up in the baby-boomer era meant that you heard—“breakfast without orange juice is like a day without sunshine”—thousands of times while watching rerun episodes of Leave it to Beaver and The Flintstones.

As my breakfast chore, I would dutifully mix three cans of tap water with one can of “fresh” frozen concentrated orange juice.  Voilà, we had our morning OJ, just like Anita Bryant’s cheery TV family.  Little did I know that the 3-to-1 formula was patented—to quench a mass-produced taste for sweet orange flavor.

As a youngster, I was also oblivious to the barrage of cognitive priming—in the form of TV ads, radio jingles, point-of-purchase placards, etc.—that would stimulate my desire to eat oranges and drink their juice to this day.  Memory traces of orange flavor are encoded in my brain.

How does the flavor of an orange leave its memories lodged somewhere in the hippocampus[1] region of the brain for later retrieval?  Behind the scenes, intellectual property rights have long shaped—and marketers have long exploited—our innate, neuropsychological demand for foodstuffs.
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blog tomato 1Diana Kennedy, an intrepid chronicler of Mexican cuisine, describes cuatomates as “very small cherry tomatoes with an intense flavor and enormous amount of tiny seeds.”  A potently flavored, tiny green tomatillo variety “grows wild in [Mexican] cornfields.”[1]

Wild, obscure tomatoes—ones you’ve never seen nor tasted—represent the tomato’s intellectual property asset future, in the form

zucchini blogWith Halloween over and Thanksgiving looming, recipes for butternut squash soup abound while caved-in pumpkin faces rot away in back alleys.  For all their exotic shapes and colors, winter squashes remain tethered to autumnal demand.

Zucchinis are another story, escaping summertime seasonality.  Obscure even thirty years ago in American households, this squash and its variants are now year-round staple items in fresh produce aisles.

How a fruit masquerading as a vegetable broke free of distinct seasonality is a tale of international migration, generations of cultivation and varietal manipulation, and tasty recipes.

Squash patent applications offer a glimpse into the ongoing quest of agribusinesses to create intangible intellectual property assets—varietal patents and memorable trademarks—out of fresh fruit and vegetable produce.  This post analyzes an illustrative squash patent and the typical patenting issues encountered during the USPTO examination process.

Since food talk makes one hungry, we close with a zucchini recipe from perhaps the most inspiring cookbook of the 20th century, Simple French Food (1974) by Richard Olney.
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