Motril Cherimoya: The Fruit Defying Climate Change

In Motril, 3,000 hectares of cherimoya sustain the local economy: 45,000 annual tons resisting extreme heat and market pressure. ## From the Andean highlands to the Granada coast: a history of adaptation. Understanding cherimoya in European markets requires tracing back to inter-Andean valleys of Peru and Ecuador, where this fruit grew wi

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From the Andean Altiplano to the Granada Coast: The History of an Adaptation

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To understand the presence of cherimoya in European markets, one must look back to the inter-Andean valleys of Peru and Ecuador, where this fruit tree grew wild long before the arrival of the Spanish. The Quechua peoples named it based on its ecology: chiri, meaning cold, and muya, meaning seeds. This was not a poetic reference, but a precise observation of the altitude and temperature conditions the plant requires to thrive.

Annona cherimola belongs to the Annonaceae family, a botanical group that includes other tropical species such as soursop (guanábano) and sugar-apple (anón). Its area of origin lies between 1,500 and 2,200 meters above sea level, on humid slopes where frosts are rare and thermal oscillation remains moderate. This combination of coolness and constant humidity proved decisive for its physiology, and centuries later would explain its surprising acclimatization in a corner of the Mediterranean.

The transatlantic leap occurred in the 16th century, within the flow of botanical exchanges that accompanied Spanish maritime expansion. Chronicles from the era mention the transfer of seeds and saplings from ports in the Viceroyalty of Peru to Seville, from where they were distributed to botanical gardens and experimental orchards. The cherimoya was no exception, although its initial cultivation on the peninsula was erratic and limited to private collections.

The true turning point arrived when some farmers on the Granada coast began experimenting with cultivation on the terraces descending from the Sierra Nevada toward the sea. The Tropical Coast of Granada, comprising Almuñécar, Salobreña, and Motril, offers a unique microclimate within the Mediterranean context. Mild winters, without significant frosts, and high relative humidity for much of the year replicate, on a smaller scale, the conditions of the Andean valleys.

This coastal strip benefits from the protection of the Penibetic Mountain Range, which acts as a barrier against cold winds from the interior. At the same time, the proximity of the Mediterranean Sea moderates extreme temperatures and provides the ambient humidity the cherimoya needs for proper flower fertilization. The result is an enclave where cultivation ceased to be a botanical curiosity and became an agricultural activity with its own identity.

The current concentration of Spanish production in this region is overwhelming. Ninety-five percent of the cherimoya grown in the country comes from the municipalities of Almuñécar, Salobreña, and Motril, covering an area of approximately 3,000 hectares. This figure makes the Granada coast the main production hub in Europe and one of the most significant worldwide outside the American continent.

Adaptation was neither immediate nor free of difficulties. Early farmers had to learn to manage a woody crop of tropical origin using techniques typical of Mediterranean dry farming. Manual pollination, necessary because the cherimoya flower exhibits dichogamy—male and female organs mature at different times—became a distinctive practice in the area. This labor, performed flower by flower during spring, requires detailed knowledge of the plant's reproductive cycle.

The agrarian landscape of the Granada coast today reflects this history of adaptation. Terraced fields, inherited from Moorish agriculture, host cherimoya trees coexisting with avocados, mangoes, and loquats. The diversity of subtropical species is a direct consequence of that experiment begun five centuries ago, when the first Andean seeds found a second home on these slopes.

The Protected Designation of Origin, recognized for cherimoya from the Tropical Coast of Granada, certifies a territorial link that goes beyond commerce. The seal protects a method of cultivation and an organoleptic quality linked to the edaphoclimatic conditions of the region. Slate soils and the natural drainage of the slopes impart characteristics not reproduced in other producing areas.

The journey of the cherimoya from the Andean altiplano to the Granada coast is, essentially, a story of ecological coincidences. The plant found in southeastern Spain a set of environmental variables similar enough to those of its original habitat to thrive without excessive forcing. This climatic harmony, more than any administrative decision or commercial impulse, explains the persistence of cultivation over the centuries.

Historical records from the region mention the presence of cherimoya trees in orchards in Almuñécar and Motril since the 18th century, although its commercial expansion did not consolidate until well into the 20th century. Improved communications and the development of irrigation systems allowed producers to overcome the limitations that had kept cultivation on a nearly domestic scale. From the 1960s onward, demand for tropical fruits in European markets drove the systematic planting of new farms.

Today, Granada cherimoya faces a scenario different from its origins. Climate change introduces new variables into an equation that remained stable for centuries. Rising average temperatures, irregular precipitation, and increased frequency of extreme events force producers to rethink practices that seemed established. The history of adaptation that began in the Andes and continued in the Mediterranean now enters a phase of uncertainty.

That trajectory, however, offers reasons for cautious optimism. The cherimoya has demonstrated a notable capacity to thrive in conditions that are not exactly those of its original ecosystem. Farmers on the Granada coast, for their part, possess empirical knowledge transmitted from generation to generation. The combination of both factors—species plasticity and local experience—constitutes the main asset against upcoming challenges.

The Andean altiplano and the Granada coast share, despite the geographical distance, the same agricultural logic based on leveraging favorable microclimates. What began as an accidental transfer of seeds in the holds of galleons transformed into one of the most successful botanical adaptations in the Spanish Mediterranean. The cherimoya not only survived the journey: it found in these lands a place to become a reference crop.

Motril, the Production Heartbeat No One Mentions

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When cherimoya from the Costa Tropical is discussed, the collective imagination almost immediately travels to Almuñécar. Press headlines, institutional campaigns, and even gastronomic routes have positioned this municipality as the symbolic epicenter of the crop. However, data from the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) “Chirimoya de la Costa Tropical Granada-Málaga” paints a far more complex map, where Motril emerges as the true production engine of the region, even though its name rarely appears in the spotlight.

The municipality of Motril concentrates more than 1,200 hectares dedicated to cherimoya trees, a figure that places it ahead of any other municipality in the area. This acreage represents nearly 40% of the total surface area registered under the PDO, a percentage that does not translate into equivalent media prominence. While Almuñécar capitalizes on the sector’s public narrative, Motril silently bears the weight of production, with plots distributed across the coastal plain and the slopes descending from the mountains toward the Mediterranean.

Records from the Regulatory Council for the 2024 campaign offer a revealing insight. Almuñécar closed the fiscal year with approximately 45,000 tons harvested, a figure that alone would justify its fame. But Motril surpassed that mark by totaling more than 50,000 tons across all its plots, a difference that consolidates its position as the leading producer in the region. The paradox is evident: the municipality contributing the most cherimoyas to the market is also the one least featured in the dominant narrative surrounding this crop.

This relative invisibility has historical and commercial roots. Since the 1980s, Almuñécar successfully built a tourist and agricultural brand associated with subtropical fruits, leveraging its status as a pioneer in introducing cherimoya to the region. Motril, by contrast, diversified its economy toward the paper industry, the commercial port, and horticultural crops grown under plastic, meaning cherimoya became integrated into a broader, less specialized agricultural landscape. The result is that fruit from Motril reaches European markets without the end consumer associating its origin with the province’s second-largest city.

The territorial distribution of production within the municipality also explains this discretion. Plantations extend through areas such as Torrenueva, Carchuna, Calahonda, and La Garnatilla, districts that rarely appear in tourist guides or reports on the Costa Tropical. In these zones, cherimoya shares space with mangoes, avocados, and vegetable greenhouses, forming an agricultural mosaic where no single crop claims the territory’s identity narrative. In this sense, cherimoya from Motril is a fruit without a pedestal.

Technicians at the Regulatory Council are well aware of this asymmetry. In their internal reports, Motril systematically appears as the municipality with the highest number of registered plots and the largest volume of certified fruit. The PDO, which covers both Granadan and Malagan producers, finds its main reserve of productive land in the municipality of Motril. The microclimatic conditions of the Motril coastline, with mild winters and high relative humidity during summer, favor fruit development that is particularly balanced in terms of sugar and acidity.

This quality does not always translate into added value for the local farmer. Lacking a territorial brand as powerful as that of its neighbor, a significant portion of the cherimoya harvested in Motril is marketed through cooperatives and warehouses operating with generic labels or under the PDO umbrella without specifying the municipality of origin. The German or French consumer buying a cherimoya in a supermarket in Munich or Paris will hardly know that the fruit grew on a slope in Torrenueva, just meters from the sea.

The 2024 campaign highlighted a particularity that reinforces Motril’s weight. While some areas of Almuñécar suffered episodes of dry wind that reduced fruit caliber, the easternmost plantations along the Granadan coast maintained more stable production. Westerly winds, common in the region, affect farms located east of the Guadalfeo River mouth with less intensity, where Motril concentrates a large part of its cherimoya orchards. This microclimatic advantage has become more pronounced in recent years, coinciding with more irregular weather patterns.

The local sector is aware of this situation and is beginning to demand the recognition it considers deserved. Motril’s cooperatives have intensified their presence at international fairs in recent campaigns, seeking to differentiate their fruit not only by the PDO but by its specific origin within the region. The strategy involves linking Motril’s cherimoya to concepts such as family farming, small-sized plots, and proximity to the Sierra Nevada Natural Park, elements that can provide a unique narrative without needing to compete head-on with the Almuñécar brand.

Agricultural employment data also reflects Motril’s centrality in the sector. Pruning, manual pollination, thinning, and harvesting generate thousands of workdays in the municipality each campaign, an activity that sustains the economy of numerous families in the coastal districts. Here, cherimoya is not a picturesque postcard crop, but a seasonal source of income combined with other subtropical productions to complete the agricultural work calendar in Motril.

Manual pollination, one of the most delicate tasks in cultivation, reaches a particular intensity in Motril. As a species with hermaphroditic flowers that open in two separate phases, human intervention is essential to ensure acceptable fruit set. Farmers in Motril have developed their own techniques, passed down through generations, which optimize the yield of each tree. This practical knowledge, accumulated over decades, constitutes an agronomic heritage that rarely reaches the general public.

Ultimately, the relationship between Motril and cherimoya is a story of productive discretion. The municipality contributing the most fruit to the PDO remains the great unknown in the cherimoya narrative, eclipsed by a neighbor that managed to turn its name into a synonym for the crop. However, the numbers are stubborn: more than 1,200 hectares, nearly 40% of production, and a 2024 campaign that exceeded 50,000 tons. These figures support the silent leadership of a territory accustomed to working without seeking headlines.

The 'Fino de Jete' Variety: A Quality Monopoly with a Hidden Risk

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In the valleys descending from Sierra Nevada to the Mediterranean, a single cherimoya variety has ultimately imposed itself with an almost absolute dominance. This is the 'Fino de Jete', a selection originating in the Granadan municipality of Jete, whose name evokes both its delicate texture and its place of origin. The data handled by local cooperatives and agricultural organizations are eloquent: 99% of the cherimoyas marketed on the Granada coast belong to this variety. This is not an approximate figure or a generous estimate; it is a production monopoly that has consolidated over decades, becoming synonymous with Spanish cherimoya.

The 'Fino de Jete' conquered markets for reasons no farmer disputes. Its pulp offers a balance of sweetness and acidity that is difficult to match, with a creamy texture that melts in the mouth without being cloying. Furthermore, it has a relatively low seed proportion compared to other traditional varieties, increasing the edible yield of each fruit. European exporters quickly learned to recognize it: when a German, French, or British buyer requests Spanish cherimoya, they expect exactly that organoleptic profile. Homogeneity became a formidable commercial advantage, a guarantee mark that has allowed the Costa Tropical to position itself as an international reference.

However, this uniformity hides a fragility that agricultural technicians have been pointing out with growing insistence for years. The 'Fino de Jete' is propagated through grafting, meaning all commercial specimens are genetically identical to one another. Each tree is a clone of the previous one, an exact copy that shares strengths but also weaknesses. If a pest or disease found a way to overcome the natural defenses of this variety, it would not face an isolated tree but the entire crop of the region. Agricultural history is full of similar examples: the Gros Michel variety dominated the global banana trade until Panama disease devastated it in the 1950s, forcing the industry to reinvent itself with the Cavendish.

Local producers are not unaware of this risk. In the cooperatives of Motril, Almuñécar, and Jete, the topic of varietal diversification appears with increasing frequency in conversations. Older farmers remember that, half a century ago, different local selections coexisted in the fields of the region, each with its particularities of flavor, size, and ripening period. That diversity was lost as the market rewarded standardization and nurseries concentrated their offerings on the most demanded variety. Today, recovering that genetic heritage is not a matter of nostalgia but an agronomic necessity.

Climate change adds an additional layer of uncertainty to this scenario. The 'Fino de Jete' is adapted to very specific conditions of temperature, humidity, and winter chill hours that the Costa Tropical has historically offered with notable regularity. Mild winters and summers moderated by the sea breeze have been the perfect framework for its development. However, episodes of extreme heat, prolonged droughts, and alterations in flowering patterns recorded in recent years are testing this adaptation. A single variety has less room for maneuver in the face of a changing climate than a range of varieties with different thermal sensitivities and flowering calendars.

The dilemma facing producers is as practical as it is complex. On one hand, the European market recognizes and pays for the 'Fino de Jete' with a loyalty that no other variety has managed to equal. Introducing cherimoyas from other selections involves assuming the risk that consumers will reject them due to unfamiliarity or because they do not meet their flavor expectations. On the other hand, maintaining varietal monoculture implies accepting a structural vulnerability that could manifest suddenly and devastatingly. Technicians from agricultural organizations insist that the solution does not lie in abandoning the 'Fino de Jete', but in complementing it with other varieties that can act as a safety net.

Some timid initiatives have begun to explore this path. In experimental plots in the region, selections such as 'Campas', 'Pazicas', or 'Bonita' are being evaluated. These are local varieties that survived in family orchards and are now arousing the interest of researchers. These alternatives present different characteristics: some ripen at different times of the year, which would allow expanding the marketing window; others show greater tolerance to intense heat episodes or require fewer chill hours for adequate flowering. None alone reaches the commercial excellence of the 'Fino de Jete', but their value lies not in replacing it but in diversifying risk.

The true obstacle to diversification is not technical but economic. Nurseries produce what farmers demand, and farmers demand what the market pays for. As long as European buyers continue to identify Spanish cherimoya exclusively with the 'Fino de Jete', any attempt to introduce other varieties will clash with the resistance of a commercial chain that rewards homogeneity. Breaking this cycle requires a coordinated effort from producers, marketers, and public administrations, an effort that so far has only materialized in limited-scope pilot projects.

The paradox is difficult to ignore: the same variety that has made Costa Tropical cherimoya an international quality standard is also the most fragile link in its production chain. Farmers know it, technicians warn about it, and markets, for now, prefer not to look. The 'Fino de Jete' has given this Granadan region a prestige that no other cherimoya-producing area can claim, but that prestige rests on a genetic base so narrow that any setback could have consequences difficult to reverse. Varietal diversification is not a trend or an academic whim: it is the insurance policy this crop needs to remain viable in the coming decades.

Manual pollination: the art that turns flowers into fruit

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The cherimoya flower hides a botanical paradox that has forced farmers in Granada to become artisans of fertilization. Each specimen presents both male and female organs within the same structure, but their maturation does not coincide in time. The stigma, the receptive female part, reaches its optimal point in the early hours of the morning, while the stamens release pollen in the evening. This natural mismatch, known as protogynous dichogamy, makes spontaneous self-pollination an almost anecdotal phenomenon under the conditions of the tropical coast.

In the fields of Motril, Almuñécar, and Salobreña, human intervention is not an option but an agronomic necessity. Without the hand of man, the trees would produce scarce, deformed fruits of insufficient caliber to compete in European markets. Manual pollination has thus become the pillar supporting the entire economy of Granadan cherimoyas, a technique that demands precision, patience, and an intimate knowledge of the floral cycle that can only be acquired through years of practice.

The process begins at dusk, when workers tour the farms collecting flowers in their male stage. These flowers, which have completed their female phase during the morning, are stored in ventilated containers where they release pollen overnight. The next morning, this pollen is extracted with small, soft-bristled brushes and applied directly onto the receptive stigmas of flowers that have just opened. The operation is repeated tens of thousands of times throughout the campaign, which extends from May to September.

Each specialized worker pollinates between 1,500 and 2,500 flowers per day, a figure that depends on flowering density, terrain topography, and individual skill. The gesture seems simple: a light touch of the pollen-loaded brush on the shiny stigma. But reality hides a complexity that is only appreciated when observed closely. The pollinator must select flowers at the exact moment of receptivity, avoid damaging delicate floral tissues, and distribute pollen evenly to ensure complete fertilization.

This knowledge has been transmitted from generation to generation, from parents to children, from grandparents to grandchildren, in a context where formal training has barely existed. Veterans of the work crews teach newcomers the secrets of the trade: how to recognize a receptive flower by the shine of its stigma, how much pressure to apply with the brush, and which flowers to discard due to damage or malformations. This tacit learning, based on observation and repetition, has kept alive a technique that no agronomic manual covers with the detail required for its real-world practice.

The economic cost of this manual dependence is considerable. Pollination represents one of the most significant items in the cost structure of a cherimoya farm, surpassed only by harvesting and pruning. Farmers assume this expense because the alternative—letting nature take its course—leads to commercially unviable harvests. Manual pollination not only increases the number of fruits but also improves their shape, size, and pulp content, the three parameters that determine price at wholesale markets.

In Motril, cooperatives have taken a leading role in organizing this task. The cooperative 'La Vega', one of the entities with the longest history in the region, coordinates specialized crews that tour members' farms throughout the campaign. These crews, consisting of ten to twenty workers, move each morning to assigned plots with a precise schedule that optimizes timing and ensures that no flower is left unattended at its optimal moment. The scale of the operation is difficult to imagine for those unfamiliar with the territory: in a normal campaign, the crews of this cooperative alone pollinate ten million flowers.

Work organization follows a logic of almost military precision. Each crew is divided into pairs that advance parallel along the crop rows, covering both sides of each tree. The pace is constant but not frantic, because the quality of pollination depends on the attention paid to each flower. An experienced pollinator can work for six or seven consecutive hours without their performance declining, but crew managers establish regular breaks to prevent visual and muscular fatigue, which ultimately translates into errors.

Dependence on this artisanal technique raises questions about the future of the crop. The lack of generational replacement in the Granadan countryside also affects pollination crews, where the average age of workers exceeds fifty years. Young people entering the sector do so mostly in management or marketing roles, not in fieldwork. Meanwhile, trials with mechanical pollination or self-compatible varieties have not yielded results that allow dispensing with human labor without sacrificing the quality that distinguishes cherimoyas from the Tropical Coast.

The paradox is evident: a fruit sold as a product of modern gastronomy depends on a technique that has hardly changed in recent decades. Goat or camel hair brushes, perforated plastic containers for preserving pollen, aluminum ladders to reach the highest flowers: the tool kit of the cherimoya pollinator remains essentially the same as that used by their predecessors forty years ago. In an agricultural sector advancing toward robotization and artificial intelligence, the manual pollination of cherimoyas remains a stronghold of craftsmanship that defines the character of this crop.

The pollinator's skill is also manifested in the ability to "read" the tree. Each specimen has its own flowering rhythm, conditioned by age, vigor, orientation, and irrigation management. The most experienced workers adjust the intensity of pollination to the characteristics of each plant, avoiding overloading young trees or forcing weakened specimens. This criterion, which appears in no written protocol, is what allows maintaining a balance between immediate productivity and the long-term health of the plantation.

The result of this meticulous work is appreciated in the fruits that reach the markets. Manually pollinated cherimoyas present a symmetric shape, homogeneous caliber, and a pulp proportion exceeding sixty percent of the total weight. Consumers who buy a cherimoya from Motril rarely know the story behind that perfect piece: the hours of pollen collection at dusk, the brushes loaded at dawn, the millions of flowers fertilized one by one during the summer months. That invisible story is, however, what explains why this Andean fruit has found in the Granadan coast a territory where its cultivation is not only possible but reaches levels of excellence unmatched in any other producing region in the world.

The microclimate of the tropical coast: a warming treasure

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The coastal strip stretching between Almuñécar and Motril has functioned for decades as a natural greenhouse, a geographical whim where the Mediterranean Sea and Sierra Nevada share the roles of a nearly perfect climate system. The sea acts as a thermostat: it retains heat during the day and releases it slowly at night, preventing temperatures from dropping to levels lethal for a crop of Andean origin. The mountain, for its part, rises as a barrier over three thousand meters high that blocks cold winds from the interior of the peninsula and creates a thermal shelter effect difficult to replicate anywhere else along the Spanish coast.

The cherimoya requires a very precise balance to thrive. It does not tolerate winters with temperatures below two degrees Celsius, a red line that was rarely crossed in this region until recently. Nor does it withstand scorching summers or excessively dry environments, because its thin skin and delicate pulp suffer from dehydration. The relative humidity provided by the sea breeze, combined with the thermal mildness guaranteed by the proximity of the water, created ideal conditions for the fruit to ripen without stress. That balance, however, has begun to crack.

Records from the State Meteorological Agency at the Motril station show an unequivocal trend: the average annual temperature has risen by one and a half degrees since 1980. This may seem like a modest figure on paper, but in agronomic terms it represents a substantial change for a crop so sensitive to thermal variations. Heat waves, which were once isolated and brief episodes, have become more frequent and prolonged, punishing the months of July and August with peaks that comfortably exceed the cherimoya’s comfort thresholds. Summer is no longer just a demanding season; it has become a period of risk.

Farmers in the area have begun to notice the effects on their own harvests. Fruits exposed directly to the sun develop superficial burns, brownish spots that depreciate their commercial value and which previously appeared only on the most unprotected trees. There are also records of premature fruit drop before completing their ripening cycle, a phenomenon that technicians attribute to accumulated water and thermal stress during the harshest months. The cherimoya, accustomed to a gentle climate, is showing signs of exhaustion in the face of an increasingly aggressive weather scenario.

The response from producers has been pragmatic and, in a way, silent. Shade nets, which until a few years ago were a marginal resource reserved for highly exposed plots, have spread across much of the region’s valleys. These structures reduce direct radiation on the trees and mitigate heat stress during the central hours of the day, although they also alter the natural ventilation of the plantations. Alongside them, misting systems have gained prominence as a tool to maintain ambient humidity during critical moments, an attempt to artificially recreate the conditions that the climate once provided spontaneously.

The cost of these adaptations falls on an agricultural sector that already operates on narrow margins and faces growing competition. Installing nets and misters represents a considerable investment for farms that, in many cases, are family-run and have limited financial capacity. Even so, farmers bear the expense because the alternative is watching the fruit burn on the tree or fall prematurely. The paradox is evident: the microclimate that made this coast a privileged enclave for cherimoya is ceasing to be a free ally and becoming a resource that must be paid for.

Scientists studying climate evolution in the southeastern part of the peninsula warn that warming will not stop at current levels. Projections point to an additional increase in average temperatures and a greater recurrence of extreme events, which will force a rethinking of some cultivation practices previously considered unchangeable. The cherimoya is not in danger of disappearing from the Granada coast in the short term, but its future viability will depend on the sector’s ability to adapt to an environment that no longer offers the same guarantees it did four decades ago.

The underlying issue goes beyond the merely agricultural. The microclimate of the tropical coast has been for generations an argument of regional identity, a distinctive trait explaining why this Andean fruit found its second home here. That narrative remains valid, but it needs nuance: the climatic treasure is warming up, and those who live off it have begun taking measures that would have been unthinkable for their predecessors. The Motril cherimoya faces a challenge not found in traditional cultivation manuals: learning to grow in a paradise that is no longer as temperate as it once was.

Climate change: the threat that already has a name in the fields

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The figures handled by the Regulatory Council of the Chirimoya Protected Designation of Origin from the Tropical Coast of Granada-Málaga tell a story that goes beyond agricultural statistics. For the 2024 campaign, initial estimates pointed to a harvest of between 50 and 55 million kilograms, a figure that would have consolidated the recovery after several irregular seasons. The final production, however, stood at 45 million kilograms, a reduction of between ten and eighteen percent that technicians unequivocally attribute to thermal stress and the lack of accumulated cold hours during winter. It was not a pest issue, nor a marketing problem, nor a pollination failure: it was the climate that reduced the yield of the trees.

The cherimoya tree is a species with demanding temperature requirements, but not in the way one might assume for a fruit of tropical origin. It does require mild, sustained heat during summer, but it also needs a winter cool enough for the flower buds to mature properly. This balance has begun to break down along the coastal strip of Granada. Winters now arrive with less accumulated cold, and summers are lengthening with heat spikes that the trees do not always withstand without consequences. The result is a shorter harvest, fruits of irregular size, and unpredictable early maturation.

Producers in Motril describe it with unmistakable clarity: flowering occurs earlier each year. What previously happened in a staggered manner between May and June, allowing for the logical organization of manual pollination teams, now concentrates into a shorter, more erratic period. Flowers open prematurely, becoming desynchronized among trees and even within the same branch, forcing farmers to make decisions on the fly. Manual pollination, already a meticulous task dependent on daily observation, becomes a race against a calendar that no longer follows known patterns.

This desynchronization has chain effects. If the flower opens before the pollen is at its optimal point, fertilization fails and the fruit does not set. If heat intensifies during the fruit-setting phase, many small fruits drop from the tree before reaching a commercial size. And if maturation occurs earlier, harvesting overlaps with other field tasks, straining the available labor force in a region where agriculture remains heavily reliant on manual work. Farmers speak of increasingly compressed campaigns, with difficult-to-manage activity peaks and periods of forced inactivity that did not exist before.

Science has begun to put numbers to this shared perception. A study by the University of Granada, conducted by researchers from the Department of Botany and the Interuniversity Institute for Earth System Research in Andalusia, projects a worrying scenario for the coming decades. If greenhouse gas emissions continue at the current rate, the area suitable for cherimoya cultivation on the tropical coast of Granada will decrease by thirty percent by 2050. This is not a total disappearance, but a significant retreat that would primarily affect lower-lying areas exposed to summer heat.

The UGR study does not merely map out loss. It also identifies the variables explaining this contraction: rising average temperatures, reduced winter cold hours, and increased frequency of heatwaves during flowering and fruit setting. These three factors act in combination and, in the case of the cherimoya, are particularly damaging because the species lacks rapid adaptation mechanisms. An olive tree may better withstand a dry summer; a cherimoya subjected to thermal stress loses flowers, fruits, and vigor in a single season.

Farmers in the area have begun testing practical responses, although they acknowledge that none are definitive. Some have installed shading nets to reduce direct radiation on the trees during the middle hours of the day. Others are experimenting with more frequent, lower-flow irrigation to maintain soil moisture without waterlogging the roots. Some prune later, seeking to delay budding and align it closer to a traditional calendar. These are containment measures, patches that allow saving the current season, but they do not alter the underlying trend.

The problem is not limited to the quantity of kilograms harvested. Quality is also at stake. Thermal stress affects sugar content, pulp texture, and the fruit's ability to ripen uniformly after harvesting. A cherimoya that has suffered heat shocks during its development may present soft spots, unbalanced flavors, or a shorter shelf life on supermarket shelves. For a fruit competing in the European market with mangoes, avocados, and other tropical varieties, this loss of consistency is a commercial burden difficult to bear.

The Protected Designation of Origin is aware that climate change is not a future scenario, but a reality already reflected in production data. The 2024 figures, with that drop of between five and ten million kilograms compared to forecasts, have served as an internal wake-up call. Technicians at the Regulatory Council are now working on collecting more detailed data on flowering, fruit setting, and maturation, aiming to build a historical series that allows anticipating difficult seasons and adjusting recommendations for producers. In this context, information has become a tool as valuable as irrigation water.

For decades, the tropical coast of Granada has thrived on the stability of its microclimate, that almost miraculous balance between sea breezes, the protection of Sierra Nevada, and generous sunshine. This balance is shifting, and with it, the foundations of a crop that has given identity to the region. The cherimoya will not disappear overnight from the fields of Motril, but its productive geography could shrink, shift to higher altitudes, or concentrate in better-oriented plots. The map of cherimoya cultivation in thirty years, if projections hold true, will not be the same as today's.

Water and Cherimoya: Managing an Increasingly Scarce Resource

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The cherimoya tree is, by nature, thirsty. To complete its production cycle and produce fruits with the balance of sweetness and acidity that defines the Designation of Origin, it requires between 600 and 800 millimeters of water per year. The Granada coast, however, records an average precipitation of only 350 millimeters. This gap, which in other times was resolved by the generosity of aquifers and snowmelt from Sierra Nevada, has become an increasingly difficult equation to balance. Farmers in Motril, Almuñécar, and Salobreña have been living with water deficits for decades, but the recurring droughts of recent cycles have transformed what was once a seasonal difficulty into a structural problem.

Drip irrigation has been a universal practice in the region's cherimoya plantations for years. Each tree receives just the right amount of water directly at the root zone, without losses due to runoff or surface evaporation. However, the efficiency of this system has not been enough to shield the crop from scarcity. In 2024, the Motril Irrigation Community was forced to reduce the water flow allocated to cherimoya by 20%, a decision that farmers accepted with resignation and which required them to rethink their irrigation strategies in the midst of the harvest season. The measure was not merely symbolic: it resulted in less water per hectare, more spaced-out irrigation turns, and constant monitoring of the trees' water status.

Faced with this scenario, technology has ceased to be an option and has become a survival tool. Soil moisture sensors transmit real-time data on water availability in each plot, allowing irrigation to be adjusted to the crop's actual needs rather than fixed schedules. Smart controllers, meanwhile, cross-reference this information with weather forecasts and the cherimoya's water demand curves at each phenological stage. The result is a surgical management of the resource: watering occurs when the tree demands it, not when tradition dictates. Some farmers have managed to maintain production using 15% less water than in previous seasons, a figure that is beginning to circulate within cooperatives as an example of possible adaptation.

The Motril Irrigation Community, which groups together most of the region's cherimoya producers, has assumed a central role in this transition. Its technicians advise farmers on sensor installation and data interpretation, while irrigation boards have reorganized watering turns to prioritize critical moments for the crop, such as fruit set or the weeks preceding harvest. The reduction in allocated water flow in 2024 has not been viewed as a defeat, but rather as a dress rehearsal for a future in which water will predictably be even scarcer. The question hovering over community meetings is direct: How much less water can the cherimoya receive without compromising fruit quality?

Aware that the tropical coast is a strategic agri-food hub, the Regional Government of Andalusia (Junta de Andalucía) has been studying for several months the reuse of reclaimed water for agricultural irrigation. The idea involves utilizing treated flows from the region's wastewater treatment plants, which are currently discharged into the sea, to supplement irrigation supplies during periods of high water stress. Although still in the technical analysis phase, the project raises questions about the quality of reclaimed water and its effect on a sensitive crop like cherimoya, but it also opens a path that many farmers consider inevitable. The Granada coast can no longer depend exclusively on a rainfall regime that climate change has made unpredictable.

Meanwhile, a water-conscious culture is spreading across farms, combining the tradition of the observant farmer with the precision of digital data. Veteran producers, accustomed to reading the state of their trees with just a glance, have incorporated sensors without abandoning their empirical knowledge. Younger farmers, on the other hand, consult mobile applications before opening a valve. This coexistence of knowledge is redefining the relationship between the cherimoya tree and water, a bond that for decades relied on relative abundance and is now being rewritten with the handwriting of scarcity. The cherimoya of Motril is not only challenging climate change through its agronomic adaptability; it is also doing so through irrigation management that has, out of necessity, become smarter and more austere.

Cooperatives and small producers: the strength of the collective

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The agrarian landscape of Motril is shaped by small plots that rarely exceed two hectares. These are family-run farms, often inherited through generations, where cherimoya trees share land with avocados, mangoes, and loquats. This fragmentation of territory has historically defined how farmers work and sell their produce, forcing producers to seek cooperative models to avoid being at the mercy of intermediaries.

Sector figures paint a picture of extreme minifundismo (smallholding). Of the 1,200 registered cherimoya farms in the region, the vast majority are under two hectares—a size that barely covers costs unless marketing channels are optimized. Manual harvesting, selective pruning, and fruit thinning require intensive labor, which is only viable when farm-gate prices remain at reasonable levels.

In this context, cooperatives have served as the true economic lifeline of the sector. Entities such as Tropifruta and La Vega group together more than 300 members between them, centralizing the supply from hundreds of small producers who, individually, would have little bargaining power against large distribution chains. Unity allows for volume planning, quality standardization, and access to markets that demand regularity in supply.

The cooperative model is not new to the Granada coast, but it has gained renewed relevance in recent years. Cost pressures and price volatility have pushed many farmers to join collective structures that guarantee a stable outlet for their production. The alternative of selling in bulk to local intermediaries still exists, though with much more unpredictable margins and without the safety net offered by shared management.

Data from the latest campaign clearly reflect the paradox facing the sector. The average farm-gate price reached €1.80 per kilogram in 2024, representing a 15% increase over the previous year. On paper, this rise should translate into improved profitability for producers. However, the other side of the coin is production costs, which surged by 20% during the same period.

Labor represents the most burdensome expense for cherimoya farms. Harvesting is done manually and selectively, fruit by fruit, because cherimoyas do not ripen uniformly on the tree. Added to this is the cost of water, an increasingly expensive and scarce resource in the region, and the rising cost of energy needed for irrigation and maintenance tasks. The result is a progressive squeezing of margins, putting the smallest farms under severe strain.

Cooperatives have responded with cost-containment strategies and the search for new sales channels. Joint purchasing of inputs, shared use of machinery, and optimization of collection routes help reduce some fixed costs. At the same time, grouped marketing opens doors to European markets that require quality certifications and traceability—requirements difficult for individual producers to meet.

The role of these entities goes beyond simple commercial intermediation. They function as technical advisory centers, informing members about more resistant varieties, pruning techniques, or harvest calendars adapted to new climatic conditions. They also act as interlocutors with public administrations, conveying sector demands regarding water infrastructure, agricultural insurance, or promotion of the Designation of Origin.

However, the cooperative structure has its own internal tensions. Coexistence among producers with different levels of professionalization, widely varying ages, and differing visions for the future of the crop generates constant debate. Generational renewal is a major concern: many children of farmers do not see sufficient profitability in small family plots and opt for other sectors, leaving the continuity of many farms uncertain.

Cooperatives are attempting to address this problem with programs to incorporate young farmers and by seeking ways to make the activity more attractive. Modernization of irrigation systems, mechanization of certain tasks, and diversification into other complementary crops are some of the paths being explored. The goal is to ensure that cherimoya remains a viable crop for new generations, rather than becoming a memory of the region’s agricultural past.

Negotiating fair prices has become the central focus of cooperative activity. Facing pressure from large retailers, who seek low prices and constant volumes, Motril-based entities defend a model based on the product’s differential quality. Cherimoya from the tropical coast holds a Designation of Origin that validates its organoleptic characteristics, an argument used to justify higher prices compared to other imported tropical fruits.

The balance between profitability and the social sustainability of the crop is fragile. Every cent increase in the farm-gate price provides relief for family economies, but also makes it harder to compete on European supermarket shelves. Cooperatives walk this tightrope, aware that their function is not just to sell fruit, but to preserve a productive fabric that provides employment for hundreds of families in the region.

The strength of the collective is also evident in resilience during crises. When a late frost damages flowering or a pest reduces the harvest, the impact is shared among all members, cushioning individual losses. This implicit solidarity within the cooperative model is especially valuable in a crop like cherimoya, which is highly exposed to climatic fluctuations.

Small producers who remain outside cooperatives survive thanks to direct sales in local markets or occasional agreements with nearby shops. These options offer interesting margins during peak season but lack the stability needed to plan medium-term investments. Most end up combining several sales formulas, diversifying risks in an increasingly competitive market.

According to farmers themselves, the future of the sector lies in strengthening collective structures without renouncing the identity of each farm. Motril’s cherimoya has built its reputation on the meticulous work of hundreds of families who care for their trees as one would a garden. Cooperatives are the instrument that turns this individual effort into a supply capable of competing in international markets, while preserving the social and territorial value of a unique crop.

From the Tree to the Market: The Cold Chain That Determines Quality

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The cherimoya offers no respite. From the moment the fruit is detached from the tree, a biological countdown begins, turning every minute into a decisive factor for its commercial survival. It is a climacteric fruit, meaning it continues to ripen after harvest, doing so at a speed that surprises even the most veteran farmers. Without an impeccable cold chain, the fruit spoils in just 48 hours—a ridiculously narrow margin for any logistics operation aiming to place production in European markets.

This urgency has forced cooperatives in Motril to completely rethink the post-harvest phase. Harvesting takes place in the early morning hours, when temperatures are milder and the fruit still retains the freshness of the night. Workers place the cherimoyas in padded field crates, avoiding any impacts that could accelerate the appearance of dark spots on the skin. From that point on, the clock is ticking, and every link in the chain must function with Swiss-mechanism precision.

Pre-cooling chambers have become the first mandatory stop. In these facilities, the fruit’s temperature rapidly drops to 4–6 degrees Celsius, a range that slows enzymatic activity without damaging the tissues. Rapid cooling is crucial because the cherimoya, being a tropical fruit, does not tolerate sudden changes well, yet it cannot remain at ambient temperature for long periods either. Cooperative technicians monitor thermometers with near-obsessive attention, aware that a two-degree deviation can ruin an entire pallet.

Refrigerated transport constitutes the second pillar of this logistical architecture. Trucks leaving Motril for the central markets of Madrid, Barcelona, or Valencia maintain a constant temperature throughout the journey. Continuous recording systems allow verification that no breaks in the cold chain have occurred, data increasingly demanded by buyers. Furthermore, the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) imposes a non-negotiable requirement: the cherimoya must arrive at the point of sale with a minimum firmness that guarantees consumers a fruit at its optimal ripeness.

This demand for firmness has required precise calibration of the harvesting moment. If the fruit is picked too ripe, it will not survive the trip; if picked too green, it will never develop the characteristic sweetness that defines the Fino de Jete variety. Farmers have learned to read the fruit’s skin, its hues, and its texture to determine the exact moment it should leave the tree. This is empirical knowledge passed down from generation to generation, now complemented by instrumental measurements of sugar content and firmness.

For international markets, the cold chain becomes even more sophisticated. Exporters sending cherimoya to Germany or France use modified atmospheres, a technique that involves altering the gas composition inside the packaging to slow the fruit’s respiration. With this technology, shelf life extends up to 20 days, allowing the fruit to travel by road to shelves in Berlin or Paris without losing its organoleptic qualities. The challenge is significant: the cherimoya competes in these markets with imported tropical fruits arriving by ship or plane, and only flawless logistics can defend its position.

Investment in refrigeration infrastructure has been one of the greatest economic efforts undertaken by Motril’s cooperatives over the last decade. Old handling warehouses, where fruit was sorted at ambient temperature, have given way to climate-controlled facilities integrating sorting lines, storage chambers, and refrigerated loading docks. This technological leap has significantly reduced losses, a factor that directly impacts the profitability of the small producers who sustain the crop.

Temperature control does not end at the loading dock. Distributors and retailers assume responsibility for keeping the fruit in suitable conditions until it reaches the consumer. The PDO has developed good practice protocols shared with logistics operators, and inspectors conduct periodic checks at points of sale to verify that cherimoyas are displayed under correct conditions. A fruit mishandled at the final link in the chain can destroy weeks of careful cultivation and handling work.

The cold chain is not merely a technical requirement. It is the boundary separating an exceptional cherimoya from a mediocre fruit, the difference between a product that conquers demanding palates and one that ends up discounted in the bargain bin. In Motril, they know this well: the climate has gifted them a unique fruit, but only logistics can turn it into a viable business. Every cold storage chamber, every refrigerated truck, and every modified-atmosphere package is a statement of intent: the cherimoya from the tropical coast is not satisfied with being good—it aims to arrive perfect in every corner of Europe.

European Export: The Motril Cherimoya as a Premium Product

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The European market has ceased to be merely an aspiration and has become the natural destination for cherimoyas from Granada. Seven out of every ten fruits leaving the cooperatives in Motril cross the border with labeling that identifies their protected origin. France tops the list of buyers, closely followed by Germany, Italy, and Portugal, countries where consumers have learned to recognize the cherimoya as a short-season fruit with an intense flavor. Export figures are not a recent anecdote; they are the result of decades of commercial effort and a deliberate strategy to position the product beyond the domestic market.

On the shelves of select fruit shops in Paris, Munich, or Milan, cherimoyas bearing the PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) seal reach prices ranging between four and six euros per kilogram. This price range places them in the gourmet segment, alongside fruits such as mangoes with controlled origin or certain varieties of late table grapes. The Central European consumer pays for a sensory experience associated with exoticism, but also for the guarantee of regulated and traceable cultivation. The Protected Designation of Origin acts as a passport that opens doors in demanding distribution chains, where provenance is not a minor detail but a key selling point.

This privileged position, however, is not without threats. Cherimoyas from Peru and Chile arrive in Europe during the counter-season, meaning when production in Granada has not yet reached its optimal ripeness. This time window allows South American importers to place considerable volumes at lower prices, putting downward pressure on quotations in wholesale markets. Producers in Motril are well aware of this dynamic: competition takes place not only in the fields but also in supply schedules and in the ability to offer consistency to European buyers.

The response from the Granada sector has been twofold and complementary. On one hand, organic certification has become a tool for differentiation against conventional imports. An increasing number of farms along the tropical coast are transitioning toward production models without synthetic agrochemicals, a costly process that requires technical conversion and agronomic patience. The organic label allows access to a niche of consumers willing to pay a premium for fruit grown under strict environmental criteria. In Germany and the Nordic countries, this segment is growing at a faster rate than the conventional market.

The second competitive advantage is a reduced carbon footprint. A cherimoya traveling from Motril to a logistics warehouse in Perpignan covers just over one thousand kilometers by road. The same fruit shipped from a Peruvian port must cross the Atlantic in refrigerated containers for weeks before reaching the European market. This difference in transport-related emissions has become a tangible commercial argument, supported by life cycle studies that cooperatives are beginning to incorporate into their communication materials. In this context, geographical proximity ceases to be an obvious fact and transforms into a measurable advantage.

European importers have begun requesting detailed information on water consumption and cultivation practices. Supermarket chains in Northern Europe, under increasing pressure from consumers and regulators, require verifiable data on sustainability from their suppliers. Cooperatives in Motril that have anticipated this demand now hold a stronger negotiating position. It is not just about selling a fruit, but about selling a production model that aligns with the dominant environmental narratives in the most profitable markets.

The logistical challenge, nevertheless, remains considerable. The cherimoya is a climacteric fruit that ripens rapidly after harvest, requiring shipment planning with almost surgical precision. Refrigerated trucks departing from packing facilities in Motril must adjust temperature and relative humidity so that the fruit arrives at its destination at the optimal point for consumption. A two-degree error in the cold chain can ruin an entire pallet and damage relationships with buyers who do not tolerate inconsistencies. Premium export demands an operational discipline that is not always visible from the outside.

Seasonality works in favor of Granada’s production during the autumn and winter months, when the European supply of fresh fruit drops dramatically. Motril cherimoyas reach the markets at a time when consumers are seeking alternatives to summer stone fruits and traditional citrus. This window of opportunity, combined with the growing demand for unique products, explains why prices remain at levels that allow small-scale farms to remain profitable. The key lies in avoiding market saturation: Granada’s production is naturally limited, and this relative scarcity is part of its commercial appeal.

International trade fairs such as Fruit Logistica in Berlin or Fruit Attraction in Madrid have become essential showcases for the sector. There, representatives from Motril cooperatives negotiate supply contracts with buyers from across Europe, present new certifications, and gauge consumption trends. Presence at these forums is not a superfluous expense but a strategic investment that maintains direct contact with the decision-makers who determine which fruits occupy store shelves. Despite its exotic nature, the future of the cherimoya is decided in the aisles of these exhibition halls.

The balance between exported volume and domestic consumption decisively conditions commercial strategy. The 30% of production that remains in Spain is destined for local markets, specialized stores, and direct consumption within the region itself. This domestic market acts as a cushion that mitigates fluctuations in international demand. When European prices fall due to pressure from South American imports, local and national consumption helps sustain farm profitability. Diversifying destinations is, in practice, a form of risk management.

The bet on a premium product is not without contradictions. It requires constant investment in certifications, packaging improvements, and promotional campaigns that do not always generate immediate returns. Older producers recall times when cherimoyas were sold in bulk with nothing more than a wooden crate as labeling. Today, the fruit travels protected by individual trays, with labels providing information on its origin, variety, and cultivation method. This transformation has been slow and has faced internal resistance, but commercial results validate it.

The future of exports from Granada will depend on the sector’s ability to maintain differentiation without sacrificing the volumes necessary to justify logistics. Organic certification and a reduced carbon footprint are solid arguments, but they are not immune to imitation. South American producers are also advancing in sustainability and could erode this advantage in the coming years. According to cooperative technicians, the response lies in reinforcing territorial identity: a Motril cherimoya is not interchangeable with one of indeterminate origin, and this message must resonate with European consumers with the same strength it has already achieved in the domestic market.

The 'Chirimoya de la Costa Tropical' PDO: A Legal Shield Under Renewal

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The Regulatory Council of the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) Chirimoya de la Costa Tropical Granada-Málaga is undergoing a regulatory renewal process that will shape its operations in the coming years. The Regional Government of Andalusia (Junta de Andalucía) is currently processing a new Regulation adapted to Law 2/2011 on Agri-food and Fisheries Quality, a legal framework that requires modernizing governance structures and control mechanisms. The file, which is currently in the consultation phase, introduces substantial changes to the composition of the governing body and to the verification procedures for the protected product.

The PDO, recognized by the European Union in 2002, has operated until now under a regulation that producers themselves consider outdated given the demands of the current market. The new text seeks to expand the production area to incorporate plots that, for historical or administrative reasons, had been excluded from the official map. This expansion is not merely a cartographic adjustment; it responds to the need to integrate farmers who grow cherimoya in neighboring municipalities with agro-climatic conditions identical to those of Motril, Almuñécar, or Salobreña, but who until now could not certify their fruit under the European seal.

The modernization of governance constitutes the second pillar of the reform. The new Regulation redefines the functions of the Regulatory Council, granting it greater autonomy in budget management and in the contracting of technical services. It also updates the system for electing board members to ensure a more balanced representation among the different links in the chain: producers, cooperatives, marketers, and, for the first time, representatives of the processing industry. This rebalancing responds to a sustained demand from the sector, which viewed the old structure as giving excessive weight to traditional agricultural organizations compared to new operators.

Regarding quality control, the draft introduces verification methods that combine documentary inspections with periodic sensory and physico-chemical analyses. The idea is to move from a reactive model, based on complaints or random sampling, to a preventive system that detects deviations before the product reaches the consumer. To this end, the Regulatory Council will be able to hire accredited certification entities to carry out independent audits at farms, warehouses, and points of sale. Producers from Motril consulted for this report agree that the PDO is an essential tool for protecting origin and preventing fraud, but they request greater agility in inspections.

This call for agility is not rhetorical. In recent years, batches of cherimoya from third countries have been detected being marketed in European markets with ambiguous labeling, taking advantage of the prestige of Granadan fruit without meeting the PDO requirements. The new Regulation strengthens the Council's powers to act against these practices, including the possibility of requesting customs authorities to detain suspicious goods. However, farmers insist that the effectiveness of these measures will depend on staffing levels and coordination with the administrations responsible for foreign trade.

The processing of the Regulation is not free of internal tensions. Some cooperatives in the eastern zone of the PDO, especially on the Málaga coast, have expressed reservations about the expansion of the production area, fearing that a larger supply will dilute the value of the seal. In contrast, producers from Motril argue that the incorporation of new plots does not automatically imply an increase in certified volumes, but rather a regularization of situations that already existed de facto. The debate, far from being purely technical, reflects the struggle for control of a market that generates more than twenty million euros annually in the region.

The timetable set by the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries, Water, and Rural Development envisages the final approval of the Regulation before the end of the next campaign. In the meantime, the Regulatory Council continues to operate under current regulations, which generates a certain degree of legal uncertainty in decisions such as authorizing new plantations or renewing registrations. The technical services of the Junta are working on resolving the allegations presented during the public information period, which exceeded thirty and range from issues of plot delimitation to the sanctioning regime.

The renewal of the PDO coincides with a generational shift in the countryside of Motril. Young farmers entering the activity see the designation of origin as a differential commercial asset, but they demand that its management be more transparent and less bureaucratic. The new Regulation introduces the obligation to publish an annual activity report and to subject the Council's accounts to external audit, measures aimed at responding to this demand for accountability. With this reform, Motril's cherimoya is at stake for something more than an administrative procedure: the credibility of a production model that has demonstrated its economic and environmental viability in a fragile territory.

Tradition and science: trials seeking the cherimoya of the future

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On the slopes descending from the Lújar mountain range toward the Motril coast, the landscape of cherimoya trees that now spreads across terraced fields is not the same one inherited by farmers three decades ago. Average temperatures have risen, summers have lengthened, and episodes of hot, dry "terral" winds more frequently damage flowering. Faced with this scenario, the Institute for Agricultural and Fisheries Research and Training (IFAPA) in Granada has deployed a network of trials on collaborating farms in Motril to identify varieties capable of withstanding heat without losing the organoleptic qualities that have made the cherimoya from this region famous.

The varietal improvement program does not start from scratch. IFAPA technicians work with plant material from Andalusian germplasm banks and international collections, crossing it with local selections that farmers themselves have maintained for generations. The stated objective is twofold: to reduce dependence on manual pollination, an artisanal task that increases production costs, and to achieve trees that set fruit at higher-than-usual nighttime temperatures. Currently, about a dozen promising hybrids are being evaluated in the experimental center’s mesh greenhouses.

Manual pollination is, for now, one of the bottlenecks of cultivation. The cherimoya flower exhibits protogynous dichogamy, a mechanism whereby the female part matures before the male part, preventing natural self-fertilization under most conditions on the Granada coast. Every spring, teams of workers move through the farms with brushes and jars of pollen to fertilize flower by flower, a meticulous task repeated for weeks. The trials seek varieties with greater overlap between the female and male phases of the flower, which would allow more autonomous pollination with the help of insects or even simply through pollen gravity.

Alongside varietal selection, researchers have focused on rootstocks. Irrigation water in the coastal strip of Motril and Salobreña carries increasing concentrations of salts, a consequence of seawater intrusion into aquifers and reduced flow from the Guadalfeo and Verde rivers. Traditional cherimoya rootstocks tolerate salinity poorly: leaf edges show burn marks, and fruit caliber suffers. IFAPA is now testing rootstocks from related Annonaceae species, such as sugar apple (Annona squamosa) or mountain soursop, which show greater resistance to chlorides and could serve as a base for grafting commercial varieties.

Funding for these projects comes from European funds under the operational program of the European Partnership for Innovation in Agricultural Productivity and Sustainability. Motril cooperatives, including those grouping producers under the Protected Designation of Origin (PDO), provide trial plots and field data that complement the technicians’ measurements. This collaboration between science and the productive sector is essential to validate results under real cultivation conditions, far from the controlled environments of experimental stations.

The time horizon managed by researchers is thirty years. Climate projections for southeastern Iberia point to an increase in average temperatures of two to three degrees Celsius, with more frequent heatwaves during flowering and fruit set. A variety planted today on a farm in Motril must remain productive and profitable in 2050, when environmental conditions will be notably different. Therefore, the trials do not limit themselves to measuring immediate production; they incorporate long-term adaptation parameters such as water-use efficiency or the tree’s response to situations of controlled water stress.

The Fino de Jete variety, which accounts for the majority of the cultivated area in the region, remains the quality reference that no improvement program aims to replace. Its white, creamy pulp with low seed content defines the sensory standard of the PDO. Hybrids evaluated in the trial fields must match or exceed these characteristics, not only in laboratory tastings but also in tests conducted by European consumer panels. Any deviation in the balance between sweetness and acidity, or in the melting texture that distinguishes Granada cherimoyas, automatically disqualifies the plant material.

Preliminary results from the trials indicate that some hybrid selections have managed to set fruit at nighttime temperatures two degrees above the critical threshold for Fino de Jete. These trees, still in the evaluation phase, produce medium-caliber fruits with a slightly higher percentage of seeds than the traditional variety, a defect breeders are attempting to correct through successive backcrossing. The process is slow: each cherimoya selection cycle requires four to six years until the tree reaches full production and can be rigorously evaluated.

Tree architecture is also studied in the trial plots. Traditional varieties tend toward an erect and vigorous growth habit, requiring intensive pruning and complicating harvesting tasks. New hybrids are selected for more open structures and productive lateral branches, which would facilitate partial mechanization of the harvest and reduce labor costs. This aspect, less visible than heat resistance, is decisive for the economic viability of the family farms that dominate the agricultural landscape of the Granada coast.

The transfer of results to the sector is channeled through technical workshops and field visits organized by IFAPA together with the cooperatives. Farmers observe firsthand how the new selections perform and take the opportunity to question researchers directly. This face-to-face communication dispels the skepticism often generated by innovations imposed from an office. The cherimoya producer, accustomed to a demanding and artisanal trade, only adopts a change when verified with their own eyes, on their own plot, and with their own water.

The ongoing trials represent a bet on the continuity of a crop that sustains the agricultural identity of the region. Cherimoya arrived on the Granada coast more than a century ago, coming from the Americas; it adapted to an alien climate and ultimately became a global reference. Now that the climate is changing again, science and tradition are weaving an alliance to ensure that this Andean fruit continues to set on the terraces of Motril in the coming decades.

The Cherimoya as Identity: Festivals, Routes, and Local Pride

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In Motril, the cherimoya has ceased to be a mere agricultural product to become a marker of belonging. The local calendar revolves, to a large extent, around its harvest, and autumn brings with it an appointment that goes beyond strictly commercial interests. The Cherimoya Festival, celebrated annually in the municipality, features open tastings, dessert competitions, and guided tours through the cultivation fields. This is not a standard promotional event, but rather a celebration where farmers themselves show neighbors and visitors the fruit of their labor.

Pastry competitions have become one of the most anticipated moments of the day. Local bakeries compete with recipes ranging from the traditional cherimoya smoothie to bolder proposals such as cold cakes, mousses, or artisanal ice creams. The jury, composed of chefs from the region and sector representatives, values both technique and the ability to respect the fruit’s original flavor. Winning recipes are often subsequently incorporated into the menus of local restaurants, creating a circuit that connects the festival with the local hospitality industry throughout the season.

Guided tours of the farms offer an educational dimension that goes beyond a simple walk. Visitors traverse the terraces where cherimoya trees grow, learn to distinguish the optimal point of ripeness, and hear directly from farmers about the particularities of cultivation. Many of these tours end with a tasting session comparing different varieties, a sensory experience that is difficult to replicate outside the region. The closeness between producer and consumer, so highly advocated in discourses on sustainable food, finds here a concrete and measurable expression.

The local education system has assumed a decisive role in transmitting this bond. Schools in Motril and nearby municipalities organize visits to cherimoya farms during the school year, coinciding with the harvest months. Children observe the work of their own parents or their classmates’ parents, and this direct experience transforms their perception of the agricultural profession. It is not the same to hear in class that the cherimoya is the economic engine of the area as it is to see a relative up on a ladder, selecting fruits one by one with hands protected by cotton gloves.

This emotional connection between childhood and cultivation has implications that agricultural technicians consider strategic. The abandonment of the countryside by new generations is a real threat throughout Mediterranean agriculture, and the Granada coast is no exception to this trend. The sector’s economic difficulties, with narrow margins and growing competition, push many young people toward other jobs. However, those who have grown up participating in the harvest or attending the Cherimoya Festival develop a sense of rootedness that cannot be explained solely by profitability criteria.

Producer associations have detected that children of farmers who participated in these school activities show a greater willingness to continue with the family farm. This data is not anecdotal: familiarity with cultivation from childhood reduces the perception of the countryside as an alien or outdated space. School visit programs have expanded in recent years, incorporating workshops on grafting, manual pollination, and irrigation management, adapted to different age groups. The intention is for children not only to know their parents’ work but also to understand the technical complexity behind each fruit.

The local pride associated with the cherimoya also manifests in daily life, beyond scheduled events. Bars in Motril offer cherimoya smoothies year-round, and conversations about the quality of the harvest are recurrent in markets and squares. The fruit appears in shop decorations, in the logos of local businesses, and in the names of cultural associations. This symbolic omnipresence reinforces the idea that the cherimoya is not just another crop, but a constitutive element of Motril’s identity.

The Cherimoya Festival also fulfills a function of intergenerational cohesion. Retired farmers share space with young people who are beginning to take charge of the farms, and conversations mix nostalgia for traditional methods with interest in new techniques. Dessert competitions allow family recipes to pass from one generation to another, often with modifications that reflect changes in taste. This oral transmission, which has been lost in other sectors, remains alive around the cherimoya.

The festive calendar is completed with activities that reinforce the link between the fruit and the territory. Hiking routes crossing the cherimoya fields have been integrated into the region’s tourist offerings, attracting visitors interested in the agricultural landscape. Local restaurants organize gastronomic events where the cherimoya stars in complete menus, from appetizers to desserts. These initiatives, often driven by the Motril City Council itself, seek to ensure that “cherimoya identity” does not remain an abstract feeling but translates into economic activity and generational renewal.

The connection between festival, school, and local pride outlines a scenario where the cherimoya functions as a cultural safeguard against the abandonment of the countryside. It does not eliminate the sector’s structural difficulties, but it creates an emotional foundation that supports farming families in times of uncertainty. Producers express this with a phrase repeated in the fields: “Whoever has picked cherimoyas as a child will hardly ever completely disconnect from this crop.” This statement, more akin to popular wisdom than technical reports, summarizes the role the fruit plays in building the Motril community.

Challenges and the Future: Can Motril’s Cherimoya Survive the 21st Century?

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The question hovering over conversations in cooperatives and bars in Motril is not rhetorical. Cherimoya cultivation has withstood price crises, occasional droughts, and competition from other tropical fruits, but the 21st century presents a different scenario. Data handled by agricultural organizations depict a horizon where the average age of farmers exceeds 55 years, a threshold that makes generational renewal a structural urgency. Without young people willing to take on the hardships of terraced farming, the continuity of the productive landscape depends on decisions being made today.

The first challenge is climatic and manifests concretely in water management. Average temperatures have risen noticeably along the Granada coast over the past two decades, altering the flowering and ripening cycles that historically defined the cherimoya calendar. Producers observe how longer summers and milder winters force them to rethink pruning and harvesting dates. The technical response involves varieties more resistant to water stress, shading systems that reduce evapotranspiration, and precision irrigation that optimizes every available cubic meter of water.

The second factor is demographic and hits with the force of statistics. The average age of farmers exceeds 55 years, and in many cases, their children have opted for jobs in the service or construction sectors, away from the uncertainties of rural life. Local cooperatives have begun designing integration programs for young people, but access to land remains a difficult barrier to overcome. Land prices on the tropical coast have skyrocketed due to urban and tourist pressures, discouraging the purchase of plots destined for a crop that demands patience and intensive manual labor.

Profitability constitutes the third pillar of this crossroads. Production costs have risen steadily, from fertilizers to the energy needed for water pumping, while farm-gate prices do not always keep pace with this increase. The most optimistic producers are betting on agroecology and direct sales as ways to capture higher margins, eliminating intermediaries and connecting with consumers willing to pay for fruit grown under environmental criteria. This strategy requires investment in certifications, logistics, and marketing—resources not within reach of all farms.

Other farmers have chosen diversification toward crops such as avocado or mango, which offer attractive short-term profitability and share similar climatic requirements with cherimoya. This trend reduces the area dedicated to the Andean fruit and poses a paradox: the tropical coast could remain a reference point for subtropical fruits, but at the cost of diluting the identity that cherimoya has built over decades. The Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) acts as a symbolic brake, although its ability to retain cultivated area depends on whether prices compensate for the effort of maintaining a more delicate crop.

Technological innovation offers tools that were unthinkable twenty years ago. Soil moisture sensors, connected weather stations, and automated irrigation systems allow water consumption to be adjusted to the real needs of each plot. Trials with improved varieties, some developed in collaboration with Andalusian research centers, seek cherimoya trees more tolerant of high temperatures and producing larger fruit. The question is whether these innovations will arrive in time and whether older farmers will be willing to adopt them.

Institutional support emerges as an element that can tip the balance. Aid for modernizing irrigation systems, training programs for young farmers, and campaigns promoting cherimoya consumption are instruments dependent on political will and public budgets. The regulatory renewal of the PDO, mentioned in previous sections, represents an opportunity to update quality standards and adapt them to new production realities. However, consulted farmers insist that regulations are insufficient unless accompanied by fair market prices.

Cooperation among producers emerges as a recurring response in analyses of the sector’s future. Cooperatives that have managed to concentrate supply and negotiate with large distribution chains obtain better conditions than farmers who sell individually. Unity also allows sharing innovation costs, accessing specialized technical advice, and undertaking investments in conservation infrastructure. The cooperative model, rooted in Andalusian agrarian tradition, reveals itself as a tool of resilience against market volatility.

The answer to the question titling this section is neither unique nor simple. It will be a combination of varietal innovation, commercial cooperation, and sustained institutional support. Motril’s cherimoya has demonstrated a notable capacity to adapt to changing conditions since it arrived on the Granada coast from the Andes. The 21st century demands a new adaptation, perhaps more complex than previous ones, because it combines environmental, demographic, and economic pressures acting simultaneously. The next ten years will determine whether the fruit that defies climate change can also defy history.

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