No More Mr. Nice Pie
  • About
  • Blog
  • Pies About Town
  • Pie-Ku
  • Recipes
    • Recipe Index

THE YEAR OF THE DOG, THE DAY OF THE KUMQUAT

2/23/2018

0 Comments

 
Picture
​When the thermometer taunts with a 77 degree Wednesday, followed by a 35 degree Thursday, it’s perfectly rational to drown one’s sorrows in the over-priced produce section of Whole Foods. I select a shopping cart that clearly has suffered an injury of Olympic proportions, as evidenced by its limp. Sporting three good wheels and one refusing to spin, I push/pull the cart away from the apple display. I’ve had enough apples, thank you. I am on a citrus mission. Combing the aisles of lackluster grapefruits, Technicolor mandarins and roly-poly clementines, one lonely 8 oz. package remains. The only citrus with skin more edible than its pulp beckons from behind a plastic clamshell. Oh, happy day! Long time no see, Kumquat.
 
In celebration of the Lunar New Year and the Year of the Dog, it seems only fitting to track down the elusive kumquat. Symbolizing good luck and prosperity, they are often part of Lunar New Year celebrations. With a bittersweet skin and slightly acidic pulp, no-need-to-peel kumquats are neatly packaged in one bite. Like most things citrus, I inherited my love for kumquats from my mother. They are also nostalgic for me; the slightly exotic fruit is inextricably linked to two restaurants from my youth; the Joy Inn and the Bamboo Inn.
 
Other than the occasional can of La Choy or Chun King chicken chow mein, (with its separate vacuum-sealed can of crispy noodles,) our adventures in Chinese cuisine were limited to dining out. Dinner at a Chinese restaurant in the 1960s promised more than a meal; it was dinner and a show. Boasting the pomp of sizzling pu-pu platters, we sat at a table against a backdrop of deep reds and flashy golds. Frowning waiters circled the dining room brandishing stainless steel pedestal dishes in one hand, tall glasses garnished with maraschino cherries in the other. The Chinese/American cuisine of my youth catered to non-daring tastes. Our menus offered nothing too exotic, nothing too spicy, and certainly nothing of the sushi variety.  Cantonese dishes were liberal with the soy, the sweet, and the monosodium glutamate. Crispy noodles floating in wonton soup and overfilled egg rolls provided more than a daily serving of sodium. Cloyingly sweet and sour dishes were heavy on the pineapple and red dye number 2. At some point between Column A’s spare ribs and Column B’s subgum chow mein, a waiter swooped in bearing a plate of hot towel-ettes, an antidote to sticky fingers. It was generally around this time that my father would ask for a few more crispy noodles and another pot of steaming tea. I was already thinking about dessert.
 
Ice cream was the star dessert player, served in frosty, stainless steel dishes. A single scoop of chocolate, vanilla, or pistachio, crowned with a paper parasol felt celebratory. Occasionally there were almond cookies, as large as a saucer, studded with one perfect almond on top. We divvied up the fortune cookies, some of us believing the message inside to be gospel. (If the fortune was not to my liking, I insisted it had been destined for one of my brothers.) The most intriguing of the dessert offerings was the one my mother favored; candied kumquats. Swimming in neon orange syrup, I loved that they were simultaneously sweet and bitter and sour.
 
Following my mother’s lead, I learned to appreciate kumquats straight-up in their natural state. Particularly in winter, their jolting taste is addictive, offering what feels like a bite of sunshine. In baking, kumquats pair happily with other citrus, sassing up sweet Meyer lemons and clementines. Their bold flavor is a welcome addition to rustic desserts, especially those featuring nuts and flours with a little bit of texture, such as cornmeal or almond meal. Paper parasols and fortune cookies notwithstanding, kumquats seem happiest amidst the holy flavor trinity of chocolate, vanilla, and pistachio. As for the maraschino cherry? My fortune cookie advises me to avoid anything with red dye number 2. In honor of the Lunar New Year, I’m listening.
 
Picture
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Archives

    March 2025
    July 2024
    March 2024
    October 2023
    September 2023
    August 2023
    July 2023
    June 2023
    March 2023
    February 2023
    January 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    October 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    December 2020
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013

    Ellen Gray

    Professional Pie-isms & Seasonal Sarcasm

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Artwork by Retsu Takahashi
© Ellen Gray All Rights Reserved 2014
  • About
  • Blog
  • Pies About Town
  • Pie-Ku
  • Recipes
    • Recipe Index