BRATTLEBORO — I am now intimately acquainted with the phrase “March madness.” This familiarity comes not from watching basketball, but from watching weather.
Those many inches of white and fluffy snow that fell in late February are now unsightly piles in my yard, dirty and hard as a rock from freezing rain - the side dishes of winter, as my friend Verandah calls them. More snow, sleet, and rain are forecast for tomorrow.
March is like having the flu. You know you will get better, but you think you're going to die.
One little thing that has helped keep me sane is catching a glimpse of the blue bowl of lemons in my kitchen. It may be March outside, but those lemons speak to me of the sea, the summer, and sleeveless dresses.
Citrus is one of the few culinary perks readily available this time of year, and on a recent trip to the store, I discovered no less than 14 varieties. I hadn't a clue as to the difference between a Cara Cara and a Navel, a Satsuma, and a Mandarin.
I had never eaten a Pommelo, and what can you possibly really do with Kumquats anyway?
I bought one of each, brought them home, peeled them, ate them, researched them, cooked with them, and now, I'll tell you what I found out. And I'm never ever getting scurvy.
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“Citrus” refers to a common genus of plants thought to have originated in southeast Asia. The plants are smallish, have fragrant blossoms, and bear fruit with a sturdy aromatic rind that protects the juicy interior, which is divided into segments.
Citrus rind is made up of an inner layer of white pulpy material called “pith” and a thin outer layer of skin called “zest,” both of which are filled with all sorts of wonderful aromatic oils and flavor. Just remember to buy organic citrus if you intend to use the zest.
All members of the Citrus family are good for you, filled with Vitamin C, fiber, anti-oxidants, and potassium.
Regular “supermarket” limes are Persian in origin, acidic, juicy, and tart.
Kaffir limes are hard to find, and have a knobbly bright green peel and a more complex, less acidic, yet aromatic flavor well suited to the cuisine of their native southeast Asia.
What we refer to as Key limes are, in fact, a variety brought to the Florida Keys by the Spaniards in the 1500s. Key limes are small and thin skinned, and turn yellow when allowed to ripen on the tree. The green ones available here are picked early and valued for a high acidity to which my puckered mouth can attest.
Lemons are prized for juice and zest, and have become a grocery staple since their commercial introduction to Florida and California in the 18th and 19th centuries.
I could find two varieties. The Eureka is the common lemon we see everywhere, and it grows abundantly year long. What would we do without its ability to change dullness into sparkle?
Meyer lemons are said to be a cross between a lemon and a mandarin. They are small, round, thin skinned, golden colored, less acidic, and filled with lots of juice that is aromatic, complex, mysterious, and simultaneously tart and sweet.
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The Orange genus embraces five species: the sweet orange that makes up 70 percent of world citrus, the bitter or Seville orange, the Mandarin orange, the Bergamot orange, and the Trifoliate orange. Only the first four are of interest to us in cooking; the Trifoliate is primarily used as root stock for grafting other fruits in the citrus family.
Bergamots are grown in Calabria, Italy, and their dried zest is used to flavor Earl Gray tea.
The sweet orange group includes the Valencia orange, navel orange, Cara Cara orange, blood orange, and more than 50 other types.
Valencias are primarily a juice orange. The one I ate was thin skinned, with few seeds and lots of juice that was a good balance of sweet and sour -- the classic orange.
Navel oranges are characterized by an additional “baby” fruit inside, creating a little concave hollow in the rind said to resemble the human navel. The skin is thick and easy to peel, and the fruit is seedless, making it easy to eat. My specimen was juicy but a bit bland.
Cara Cara oranges are a variety of navel with rosey segments, a sweeter flavor, and a lower acidity. I found them slightly less juicy, but very fruity. Blood oranges come from Sicily, and have streaked dark rind and gorgeous garnet flesh that is indeed the color of blood. Less juicy perhaps than other oranges, their flavor is seductive, rich, and sweet. They possess a complexity that suggests dark raspberries or black currants.
The Seville or bitter orange is sour, filled with seeds, and valued for its quantity of pectin. They are primarily used for the making of marmalade.
Things get more complicated when we move into the Mandarin family of oranges. This family includes Tangerines, Tangelos, Minneolas, Murcotts, Satsumas, Temples, and Clementines.
Tangerines are smaller than oranges and less sweet. Tangelos are a cross between a grapefruit and a tangerine. They have a very distinct knob at one end, and are easy to peel and very juicy. Minneolas are a variety of Tangelo with the same knob, reddish orange skin, and lots of juice.
Murcotts are a type of Tangerine. Satsumas are seedless mutants, characterized by loose skin and sweet juice. Temples are a cross between a Sweet Orange and a Tangerine. They have a heavy thick peel and a sweet flavor with lots of seeds. Clementines are small seedless hybrid Tangerines, and a cross of the Sweet Orange and the Mandarin.
Are you confused yet?
My Tangerine was pebbly and bright orange. When peeled, it revealed fruit with a number of seeds, but the flavor was just so-so. The Tangelo had a deeper orange peel, and a much more interesting and juicy taste. My Minneola was easy to peel, very juicy, but boring.
The Murcott had less juice, but a richer sweet flavor and a deeper colored flesh. The ordinary Spanish Clementine was small, dry, and tasteless, and I spit it out. The Satsuma, while small, was filled with delicious sweet juice and a delicate subtle flavor
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What's left on the kitchen counter are the two extremes of a Pommelo and a Kumquat. Pommelos are large and heavy with soft thick green skin and almost an inch of pith under the rind. The flesh is sweet and wet, but surrounded by a membrane that I found quite bitter. An interesting ancient fruit, but not worth the $3.00 it cost.
The Kumquat was tiny, oval, and bright orange. The inside of a Kumquat is very sour, but the skin is very sweet. Pop one in your mouth, and that first burst of acidic sour juice wakes you right up, but is soon balanced by the chewy, almost herbal, exotic rind. Kumquats offer a huge amount of flavor, texture, and contrast packed into a fruit the size of a large olive.
Almost everyone has a lemon or two around the house and maybe some oranges, but what can we do with citrus beyond the obvious squeeze of lemon or wedge of orange with breakfast?
Here is a ridiculously easy dinner menu for four. It begins with a refreshing and delicious salad, moves on to a unique braised chicken, served with bright and crispy roasted potatoes, and ends with a moist, buttery, subtle cake.
1. Peel and separate the segments from the membrane of 4 Cara Cara oranges over a bowl. Add 2 bulbs of thinly sliced fennel, ½ cup black oil-cured olives, and a handful or two of arugula. Toss it all with a vinaigrette of ¼ cup olive oil, 3 tablespoons each orange and lemon juice, and just a touch of Dijon mustard. Sweet meets pungent, crunchy meets smooth.
2. Brown eight chicken thighs in a large sauté pan with a tablespoon of olive oil. Add a chopped onion, a few chopped cloves of garlic, a cup of green olives, a cup of whole Kumquats, a bay leaf, and enough white wine and chicken broth to come halfway up the chicken.
Bring to a simmer, put on the lid, and cook for 45 minutes to an hour, until the chicken is tender and the sauce has reduced. This is a great marriage of meaty, salty olive and sweet and sour chewy Kumquat.
3. Pre-heat the oven to 400F. Cut 6 potatoes into wedges, and toss them in a bowl with a mixture of ½ cup olive oil, the juice of two lemons, two minced garlic cloves, a good handful of fresh oregano, salt, and pepper.
Roast in a rimmed baking sheet for an hour, turning occasionally to prevent burning. If you really love the flavor of lemons, you can cut the lemon rind into chunks and add them to the mixture before roasting.
4. For the cake, combine a peeled and roughly chopped sour Seville orange, 2 eggs, 1 stick of softened butter, 1 cup of sugar, 1cup flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, and a pinch of salt in a food processor for two minutes. Pour into a greased 8 inch spring form pan and bake in a pre-heated 375° F oven for 30-35 minutes.
Cool for five minutes and then turn out onto a rack. This cake tastes great with a spoonful of marmalade and some gently whipped cream, and is even better the next day.
The joy of cooking and the pleasures of good food have helped me through many a bad week. Last March, I was able to plant peas and spinach in my garden. This year I will be lucky if the piles of snow in the yard melt by May.
But so far, it has never snowed in my kitchen, where a little bowl of yellow fruit can make the sun shine on the gloomiest day.