The Spanish Kitchen (ConranOctopus/Interlink)
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ORANGES ARE THE ONLY FRUIT
The rain in Spain was falling mainly on my head. In the distance, to my left, the towers and turrets of the city of Valencia were barely visible; somewhere to my right were the waters of the marshy, coastal lake of Albufera, famed for its rice fields. In front, the normally cobalt blue Mediterranean was as grey as the heart of a stone saint. I was in the heart of the great orange garden of Spain, and about to have all romantic notions of golden fruit and amorous sheiks dispelled from my mind. Spain is the largest exporter of oranges in the world, but citrus fruit is a modern agribusiness; producers, packers, merchants and exporters have to be up-to-date and competitive with planting and new varieties designed to stretch the season, ensure consistent supply and minimise the time between tree and table. Yet all the high tech research labs, warehouse sophistication, trading exchanges and transport logistics still depend al fondo on two, age-old things: Nature and Man.
We need the rain. Its the end of February and weve had a very dry winter, explained José Vincente, Field Manager for Frutsol. The pickers also welcome it. Oranges have to be fully ripe when picked and need gentle handling; they still havent invented a machine to do the job. But the pickers cant work in the rain - the trees close in on themselves, like people huddling from the rain, and are so wet theyd drown the pickers. More importantly, the picked fruit must not get wet or it will rot. So, the pickers get a day off, and can spend it in the bar instead! The newly washed leaves were dark and glossy, each branch heavy with acid-sweet Navelates. Yellow wildflowers, brought out by the rain, filled the spaces between the trees; the air reflected the rich, earthy aroma of the soil clinging to my boots. A good, natural smell, though I wanted to be there in April, when the trees are decked in bridal white and the intense perfume of the blossom is said to be as intoxicating as the local Agua de Valencia, a lethal brew of orange juice, Cava and brandy. They used to say that sailors could smell the orange blossom out at sea.
José, an engaging and lively character, had worked in the citrus industry all his life. What was his favourite season, I asked? This one. When I see all those oranges, I think of all the money it brings to my pocket! It was more than a quip; almost everyone in the Communidad Valenciana has a vested interest in the citrus groves. Historically, inheritance laws divided the land between the children of farmers, and as a result just nearly every family owns a plot somewhere, even if they no longer live in the countryside themselves. Most plots are small, although the local Lladro and Porcellanosa families are also some of the largest landowners. One way or the other, a poor harvest, bad weather or falling prices affects everyone.
Valencia. Oranges. Oranges. Valencia. The association is inescapable. Walking through the sensual, slightly oriental city streets and squares of the city sometimes called The Queen of the Levante liberated by El Cid, it is easy to recall that orange trees, so beloved of the Moors, were considered one of three essential components of garden design along with colourful tiles and ornamental fountains. There are orange trees in small gardens, ceramics on the splendid modernista Railway Station, mosaics on the façade of the Colón Market. A crate of oranges left on a step. A favourite dessert is simply a glass of freshly picked and squeezed juice served with a sachet of sugar. The fruits of winter, a reminder of the sun. As Nicolas Belmonte Martinez, Director of Intercitrus reflected, Nature is wise. Oranges and mandarins are seasonal, full of vitamin C, which is good for winter colds. Of course, there is an element of habit, but I think there is also a genetic impulse that explains why we are so drawn to citrus fruit in winter. Citrus consumption has always been higher in cold weather, but now we are losing that seasonal tradition as fruit is easily available all year round.
Bitter oranges, still grown for British marmalade around Seville, arrived with the Arabs, some two centuries before the returning Crusaders brought the first specimens to Sicily and Italy from the Near East. They were grown for their medicinal and aesthetic qualities, sometimes compared to glowing embers or cheeks glimpsed through green curtains of covered litters. In the 16th century, the Portuguese introduced sweet oranges from China: the phrase is echoed in a rather archaic expression in Spanish that means an impossible dream. Even now, the words satsuma and mandarin echo that exotic, oriental origin. In 1781, the first commercial grove was planted in Valencia by a local priest. It was an astute move; the coastal plains north and south of Valencia, provided a frost-free microclimate that proved a perfect home for the fruit, helped by a sophisticated irrigation system inherited from the Arabs. Today, limited only by sea and mountain, an army of groves occupies every available inch; banners of orange and green as far as the eye can see.
ORANGES IN OLD RECIPES? (SEE SPAIN GOURMETOUR)
The story of the taroncha, as it is known in Valencia, is documented in the fascinating Museu de la Taronja (Valencian for Orange Museum), housed in a beautiful old house in Burriana, south of Castellon. The Museum is a tribute to the vision of Vicente Abad García, a quietly spoken agricultural engineer and historian whose gentle manners cloaked a life-long love affair with oranges. Born in Burriana, once one of the ports where the fruit was loaded onto ships bound for northern Europe, he dryly joked that the only things the old men used to talk about in the town when he was growing up were: Oranges, football and women! Thats why I left for Madrid.
Trade quickly developed in the 19th century, spurred on crises in the silk, hemp and wine industries. The Valencians, a trading people since Phoenician times, soon took advantage of the export opportunities offered by the growth of steamship navigation combined with an increased demand in the industrialised countries of Europe for fresh fruit; the rapid spread of orange groves changed the landscape forever. Today, the main commercial imperative is for good-looking, easy-peeling, no-seed fruit, but at one time an astonishing 5,000 varieties of fruit were recorded. In the early 20th century, the Washington navel, round as a Belisha beacon, was introduced, named because of its visible navel at the point where the blossom appears. Its descendents, such as Navelina and Navelate, now make up the majority of the crop, along with the white group Salustiana and Valencia Late, and blood oranges such as Sanguinelli and Sanguina. Today, nearly as many mandarin oranges, especially clementines, are grown as oranges.
The Museum has a display of old agricultural tools used for weeding, pruning, planting and grafting. Technology has changed, but not the horticultural imperatives. As Jose had told me, You have to prune the trees after the harvest, if not they grow as high as the sky! But, its not a difficult job when youve done it all your life.
Once every childs Christmas stocking in Britain would conceal an unimaginably exotic, scented tangerine, far sweeter in my mind than most sharp little clementines. This memory of Christmas Past, when the finest Spanish oranges would arrive individually wrapped, was also conjured up in the wonderful display of silk paper wrappings and orange crate labels. In the first half of the last century, some of the most talented artists in Valencia worked as graphic designers in the citrus industry, and the polychromatic art nouveau and deco labels are decorative, exuberant and witty, always eye-catching if sometimes a touch bizarre. Vicente pointed out a label from his familys firm, The Wireless Brand showing an old-fashioned radio with all stations calling Eat More Fruit and oranges coming out of the box labelled Liverpool, London, Glasgow and Manchester. This link between fruit and art continues today in the prestigious annual photographic competition sponsored by the Valencian citrus industry.
Back to the future. The dynamics of the modern world mean increasing competition from both other countries and other regions of Spain where there is more space, lower costs and higher margins. Citrus groves are also being dug up to provide land for new golf courses and holiday homes, but Vicente was positive, Yes, we have challenges, but we also have 200 years of experience, and a Research Institute that continues to push the boundaries forward. But everything has its season, and if you get fruit too early onto the market it can affect the quality, especially with mandarins and clementines. Supermarkets are also guilty of trying to drive the price downwards all the time, so they end up with poor fruit. Too many people think that an orange is an orange is an orange; no housewife in Valencia will buy oranges ready packed from the supermarket, they want to feel and weigh them by hand. I always say that you should never ask the shopper to buy an orange that you wouldnt eat yourself for free. I know that when they taste them, people are always surprised at the quality of oranges from Valencia. We dont practice agriculture here; essentially, we are still gardeners.
In the orange grove, José slit open an orange, luminous as a still life by Zurbarán, to reveal the dripping, brilliant flesh. Never mind the variety, he said. The best fruit is the one you eat straight from the tree.
Bitter orange before breakfast; good health Andalusian saying.
v
OVEN-COOKED BASS OR BREAM WITH OLIVE OIL AND LEMON DRESSING
(for 4)
2 sea bass or bream, each weighing about 750g/1lb 10oz (or 1 large one), trimmed and prepared for cooking
Extra Virgin olive oil from Bajo Aragon
A handful of fresh bay leaves
1 lemon sliced plus 4 tbsp lemon juice
4 whole cloves of garlic, peeled
Sea salt
Black olives from Bajo Aragon
Pre-heat the oven to 200F/400C/Gas Mark 6
Generously oil a large ovenproof dish and spread with bay leaves topped with the sliced lemon.
Brush the fish with oil and sprinkle with salt. Place in the dish and bake for 15-20 minutes until the skin looks toasted and the fish is cooked through.
Meanwhile heat 6 tbsp oil in small pan and fry the garlic cloves. When they start to brown, remove the pan from the heat, discard the garlic (or eat it, as you wish) and whisk in the lemon juice.
Open up each fish and remove the fillets. Place portions on serving dishes and pour over the hot oil and lemon mixture.
Scatter with a fistful of olives.
