What a funny quirk of verbiage that a bum car is called a “lemon.” There’s even a “Lemon Law” to protect us from people selling used vehicles with hidden flaws. This assumes the worst about people and, I think, slanders lemons. Calling a car a lemon should be a great compliment, akin to linking its heritage to Andre Citroen, the great French automaker. Back in 1949 his head was filled with visions of a new automotive standard, a small-engined car “designed to provide realistically priced transport to rural French men who had little interest or knowledge of motor cars.” The Citroen 2CV, that funky-chunky little icon of French motoring, was launched to assist in the post-war reconstruction of France. Seeing only the greatest of possibilities for his creation, Citroen ran true to the nature of his name. Like the citrus fruit he embodies, he was an optimist.
It’s not hard to see citrus as optimistic. Many of us choose to welcome each fresh new morning with a ritual glass of citrus juice. Throwing back a tall serving of sunny orange, pink, or yellow liquid is a signal of our willingness to take on the day and all it has in store for us. Hope—it’s not just for breakfast anymore. What could be more optimistic than lemonade? Not merely for the happy end-product of Life’s Lemons, but for every kid with a stand on the side of the road who is sure that she will make enough money to buy that Barbie Dreamhouse.
Optimism is inherent in a fruit with a tough, bitter skin which needs to be overcome to get to the juicy, drippy, tangy center. If it weren’t for the belief that something good can lead to something better, Florida’s number one export would be bingo chips.
Oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruit, tangelos, pommelos, and even ugli fruit all owe their existence to the citron, a large, ungainly and rough-skinned oddball whose peel is prized above its flesh. It is widely believed that the citron is the progenitor of all citrus fruits. Although the exact place of origin is unknown, it is generally agreed that an ancient variety of citron took root around 8,000 years ago in the Near East, somewhere in India or the fruitful area between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Excavations of Mesopotamian sites have yielded citron seeds dating back to 4,000 B.C., and the mummy-makers of ancient Egypt recorded their use as an aid in embalming.
It was the ever-optimistic Jews who had a great impact on the world of citrus, supposedly bringing the fruit to Israel from their imprisonment in Babylon around 500 B.C. Called “etrog,” the citron figures prominently in Jewish history. It appears on Jewish coinage, graves and synagogues, and was used as the handle for the ritualistic circumcision knife. The etrog is still used today in the Feast of Tabernacles ritual during the holiday of Sukkot. The original ritual called for a fruit of the hadar tree, or the cedar tree whose cone was called kedros in Greek. Kedros was Latinized as cedrus and this eventually turned into citrus.
As the Jews traveled across the Roman Empire, they brought their beloved citron with them, planting the seeds throughout the Mediterranean, where the plant would flourish. Some historians believe that it was Jewish horticulturalists who were commissioned by the Romans to develop the orange and the lemon, by grafting and cross-pollinating variations of the citron. They believe what the Talmud refers to as “sweet citron” is actually an early orange.
However the sanguine treasures were carried from culture to culture, citrus fruits came to be loved and cherished by almost all who discovered their fresh beauty. The Japanese used orange trees in fertility rituals and weddings because the tree bears flowers and fruits at the same time; the flower symbolized virginity and the fruit meant fertility. The Chinese used the dried fruits to repel moths from clothing. Arabic women distilled fruit essences and oils to cover gray hair, and the people in India still regard the branches of a citron tree to be a very lucky walking stick indeed.
Medicinally, citrus has been a wellspring of cures for such maladies as seasickness, pulmonary problems, poisonings, dysentery, halitosis, rheumatism, and possession by evil spirits. Clearly, it takes an optimist to prescribe OJ for the latter.
Columbus and his seafaring contemporaries knew that citrus fruits could prevent scurvy. He carried the fruits and seeds to the New World as part of his ship’s rations, spreading the crops throughout the Caribbean. Ponce de Leon is credited with bringing the orange to Florida in the 1500s, creating a future empire as he ordered his sailors to plant 100 seeds each wherever they landed.
Floridians have always been optimistic about citrus. Because of the 1906 hurricane, the pineapple culture of the Florida Keys was abandoned in favor of a new crop. Limes were planted, and the pickled fruit was sent to Boston where it was a popular snack for kids. Most of the businesses were decimated by the hurricane of 1926, but production rose again as a cottage industry when the fame of the key lime spread. If there’s one thing that’s more optimistic than citrus, it’s pie. Put the two together, forget about it. Locally, the Oceanaire Seafood Room has a killer key lime pie that’s as big as the happy-go-lucky head of a cheerleader!
Spinning the positive doesn’t have to be a big production. Your citrus lift can come from the simplest of places. Lucia’s adorns their mixed greens with an uncomplicated lemon vinaigrette that has brightened many a mood. And there’s nothing quite like a jumbo, citrus-jammed smoothie from Fresco on a bright spring day to put a kick in your step and make everything right with the world.
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