Food & Wine USA - (01)January 2021

JANUARY 2021 19

PEARSON RANCH

SPECIALTY CITRUS

Bergamot sour oranges are a key

component in teas and perfumes,

with leaves and rinds that smell like

heaven—or southern Italy.

pearsonranch.com/citrus

VIA CITRUS DWARF

CITRUS TREES

Trees go in and out of stock, but they’re

all a treat—especially lovely Meyer

lemons that bring the sunshine inside

year-round. viacitrus.com/trees

FOUR WINDS GROWERS

Australian finger limes are

prized by chefs as “citrus

caviar,” containing wee

vesicles that are individual

pops of bliss.

fourwindsgrowers.com

MELISSA’S CITRUS CRATE

There’s no guarantee of which

citrus varieties will arrive, but

fingers crossed for endlessly

poppable kumquats to eat, rind

and all. melissas.com

HOW TO BRING THE CITRUS HOME

neglected to eat until she fell off her bike

on the dirt road home. I told myself I was

taking my vitamins.

That was just maintenance citrus,

though—cheap, pallid, forgettable, and

surely out of season—but until you know

there’s a box of 120 Crayola colors, you’re

perfectly content with your eight-pack.

Moving to New York City and wandering

through its markets expanded that pal-

ette of fruit possibilities far beyond my

navel gaze. Over the past few winters, it’s

become a self-assigned mission to find

as many varieties of citrus as I can to

figure out what makes me happiest. And

then eat all of it. From roughly October

through February, there is a heady mist

around my person as I claw into Sumos,

kishus, Pixies, mandelos, Moros, pom-

elos, satsumas, Murcotts, and all manner

of ’quats. I meticulously peel, sniff, and

steep Buddha’s hands in spirits, stingily

zest yuzu, and squeeze oroblanco into

every dish and drink I can. By New

Year’s Eve, I’m convinced that my dig-

ging fingernails will stay golden until

summer and my guts are in a constant

low-level state of upset from all the acid

intake, but I can’t stop myself—I feel like

I’m swallowing the sun, and it’s so dark

outside.

But this winter, I have to strategize.

Taking the subway from borough to bor-

ough and hovering over fruit stalls is

infinitely less appealing in this particular

season, so I’ve planned ahead, buying

dwarf citrus trees to grow under lights

inside. My calamondin is already bearing

small green fruit, the satsuma is at least

a year away from producing any, but the

Key lime and Meyer lemon are decked

with flowers that I think may be the

most joyful things I’ve ever smelled. I

ration this out to myself so it remains

special; finish a household task, or some

writing I’ve been putting off, and I earn

the chance to shut off the noise, walk

over, and deeply inhale until the whole

world is nothing but blossom. This is my

time. And it rules.