Good morning!
How's your week going? Here in the Valencia orchard, we're out in the fields, sun on our necks and notebooks in hand, coordinating orders with colleagues from all over Spain.
You know how we work. Every morning we check your orders and head out to harvest. Fruit picked to order, just like our grandparents did, but with WhatsApp and new boots. We champion our produce at a fair price and with the same care as always.
Today I want to tell you why red kiwi is the pampered child of the orchard. It's beautiful inside, tastes divine, and that's why it costs more. But it's also one of those fruits that won't eat if you move its chair. Don't say I didn't warn you.
The climate is its main quirk. Unlike green or yellow, red kiwi prefers calm temperatures. No ups and downs between day and night. If it gets too hot, it loses color intensity inside. If a treacherous chill sets in, it slows down and becomes pensive, like someone staring at the sea and not moving. So, it's all about balance and few surprises.
With water, there's another interesting fact. The plant appreciates irrigation, but red kiwi doesn't do well with high humidity. When the air is very humid or the soil drains poorly, fungal problems appear, and the plant suffers. That's why in these farms, drainage must be monitored like a sluice gate. Loose soil, fine drip irrigation, and no puddles. Water, yes, but with a script.
Flowering is pure crystal. Spring arrives, and the red kiwi flower is truly delicate. A gust of wind, an untimely rain, and goodbye to quite a few flowers. No flower, no fruit, so each season is a small test.
Pruning is the other great art. Kiwi grows on a trellis, and it must be guided patiently, like pitching a tent. Not too much shade, not too little air. We open up the plant so the wind circulates and just the right amount of light enters. If you overdo it, it gets stressed. If you underdo it, the fruit is less sweet. The beauty of pruning is that it's not done in a hurry. It's done with an eye, years of experience, and a conversation with the plant.
Pollination is half the harvest. For that inner red to be intense, fertilization must be good. We care for the bees like family 🐝 and plant males and females in carefully thought-out proportions, always keeping a close eye on the weather forecast during flowering.
The final stretch is the most tense. Red kiwi becomes very sensitive to lack or excess of water and sun exposure. If irrigation isn't precise, it can crack. If it gets sunburned in August, it gets marked.
During those weeks, we're constantly checking, day in and day out. Stroking the fruit with our eyes, not our hands, and adjusting irrigation with a surgeon's precision. The joke here would be that red kiwi is easily moved to tears, but I promise I'm not exaggerating.
And when the time finally comes to pick, the post-harvest ballet begins. It's a less resistant fruit than its cousins. It must be handled gently, in boxes that embrace it without squeezing, kept cool, and transported on short journeys.
All this explains why there's less production and why its value is higher. It's not a market whim. It's the price of months of pampering, of farmers working the old-fashioned way, with patience and wisdom. And when you finally bite into it, you understand that rarity also tastes like a job well done.
If you ever see red kiwi on our website, remember this letter. Behind it will be a handful of artisan hands, many nights spent looking at the sky, and a morning's harvest just for you.
A big hug and thanks for being on the other side. We're still in the field, with a knife in our pocket and a strong desire for the persimmon to stop being a stranger in its own home.
See you next week!
