| Kumquat, Fructify, Quahog, Crepuscular | |
by Judy Sobeloff, from the April 2005 newsletter
My friend writes front-page stories for The Washington Post, but her journalistic career began, not by riding around on Air Force One as she does now, but by writing about school lunch menus in a tiny New England town. Likewise, I wrote about carrots and bananas before reaching the long-awaited pinnacle of any food-writing career, the kumquat.
From a distance, kumquats gleam like jewels, looking like brightly colored olive-sized oranges. Holding one in your hand, you can see why someone might call a loved one “my little kumquat.” Tasting one, however, is a different story.
I let Fred go first. “I think it’s a little thrill,” he said, “but I can’t imagine anyone else liking one.” Biting into one myself, I couldn’t believe how unpleasant the experience was. Maybe they weren’t quite ripe? For about a week afterwards, I tried additional kumquats daily, as if shipping myself off to some self-imposed kumquat boot camp.
Isn’t there a name for the condition whereby one repeats the same behavior again and again, hoping for a different result? Or is this unfounded hope simply a defining human trait, like having opposable thumbs?
Originating in China and Indochina, the name “kumquat” is Chinese for “gold orange,” with the first kumquat recorded in the 12th century.
They spread next to Japan before coming, much later, to Europe and the United States. Although I read widely that the kumquat is a citrus fruit, technically it is not. In 1915 it became a member of its very own genus, Fortunella, named for the horticulturist who first brought it to London in 1846. What distinguish kumquats from bona fide citrus fruits are their edible peel and the fact that they break into fewer segments. Not only is the peel edible, it is the sweetest, and, I found, only palatable part. Because of this thin skin, kumquats only last a few days at room temperature and keep longer when refrigerated.
To add insult to injury, our little kumquat joins “fructify, quahog, crepuscular, kakkak, gargoyle, cacophonous, aasvogel, brobdingnagian, and jukebox” in qualifying as the 10 “ugliest sounding words” in the English language, according to wordsmith Willard R. Espy in his Book of Lists: ‘90s Edition. As if this isn’t infamy enough, “kumquat” also makes it onto the list of “Top Ten Sexually Suggestive Produce Items,” but only ranks tenth, beaten out of first place by “peach” (www.eros-la.com).
When it comes to cooking, though, the kumquat fares better. Kumquat Refrigerator Pie was a snap to make and surprisingly delicious, like key lime pie, only better, praised by my friend Jessica for its “punch.”
My friend Kate, nine months pregnant, made such a face upon hearing the word “kumquat” that I thought she was having a contraction. But she thought Kumquat Tangerine Sauce was great, as did my three-year-old, who had the sauce later on a fabulous bruschetta and liked the sweet and sour parts alike.
Kumquat Oatmeal Cookies with white chocolate chips were fine as cookies go, but somehow less exciting than anticipated. Perhaps we were reaching our kumquat saturation point?
Nonetheless, on the last day of boot camp, a tiny miracle happened. “I think these are a little sweeter,” Fred said, bringing home yet another bagful from the Co-op. I still didn’t like them, but their tartness crossed the line into tolerable, and at least I could recognize them as food. And so I attempted yet one more foray with kumquats: boiling them with sugar and cinnamon. Not seeing the point of dumping sugar into water that would only be poured away, however, I didn’t add enough sugar and the resulting kumquats were still too sour to be appealing. What to do with the potful of sugary cinnamony kumquat water? Not to worry.
Fred began whipping up pancake batter into which he dumped the contents of my pot. Hence, a culinary discovery: Dr. Fred’s Kumquat Pancakes, subtly sweet and citrusy and oh so good. Due to the secret ingredient (boiled extract of kumquat juice), we discovered that these pancakes should be cooked on a slightly lower temperature with slightly more care.
O Kumquat! my Kumquat! our fearful trip is done.
KUMQUAT REFRIGERATOR PIE (adapted from www.kumquatgrowers.com)
1 baked pie crust, 9”
8 oz. whipping cream
2/3 cup pureed kumquats
1 can condensed milk
1/2 cup lemon juice
Beat condensed milk and whipping cream. Add lemon juice and beat until thickened. Add pureed kumquats, pour in pie shell and chill in refrigerator for several hours.
KUMQUAT & TANGERINE SWEET BRUSCHETTA (adapted from www.absoluteaxarquia.com)
12 kumquats
4 tangerines
2 cinnamon sticks
1/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1/2 cup water
1/2 baguette
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
KUMQUAT OATMEAL COOKIES (adapted from www.kumquatgrowers.com)
2/3 cup margarine
2/3 cup brown sugar
2 large eggs
1-1/2 cups oatmeal
2/3 cup white chocolate chips
2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
2/3 cup chopped kumquats, pureed
Beat margarine and sugar until fluffy. Add eggs and mix well. Combine oatmeal, flour, baking soda, and salt, and add to mixture, stirring well.
Add pureed kumquats and chocolate chips. Drop by large teaspoon on ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 8-10 minutes at 375 degrees or until golden brown. Makes 2-1/2 dozen.
SWEETENED KUMQUATS (adapted from salad.allrecipes.com)
1 pound kumquats
2 cups sugar
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
Wash kumquats, bring to a boil with enough water to cover, then simmer for 30 minutes. Add sugar and cinnamon, return to a boil, and cook for five minutes. Remove from heat and drain.
[NOTE: For DR. FRED’S KUMQUAT PANCAKES, save the sweetened water and add later to pancake batter.]
Judy Sobeloff is looking for good homes for her last few boiled kumquats.
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