A Zest for Citrus Season

What do grapefruit, an oven, the opera, and the south of France have in common? A celebration of citrus season, bien sûr! 

One small town on the French Riviera throws an annual party celebrating the abundance of citrus that grows its microclimate of the Alpes-Maritime region. Menton, on the sea and near the French-Italian border, is known for its “fête du citron” including the elaborate sculptures created each year using oranges and lemons. I was fortunate enough to experience the 89th festival in real time and place!

I’m somewhat infatuated with citrus, especially now with the desire to elevate my mid-winter blues. I do so in my happy place – the kitchen – with citrus-related experiments using zest, essential oils, and juice. So, when my fellow adventurer – who brilliantly suggested a trip to France for my birthday – realized we’d be in Menton during the lemon festival, our forthcoming journey became infused with all-things-citrus. A “citrus tarte” class was offered, serendipitously on my birthday! To prepare, we spent weeks diligently improving our French language skills; watching French cooking shows; experimenting with grapefruits my dad had hand-delivered from his Arizona orchard.

I invited my French friend (the one I mention in my book) to talk us through a recipe for grapefruit bars – lemon bars, using grapefruit – tout en français. Primed with the French vocabulary for “oven”, “baking dish”, “stir vigorously”, and “check the time”, plus a snapshot of the festival theme (opera and rock), still we were unprepared for the 100k people visiting Menton to photograph the massive citrus sculptures, watch the parades, and purchase mementos ranging from preserved lemons, liquor with essences of trois agrumes, and sample mandarin sweets.

On my birthday morning, away from the crowds in terraced garden showcasing the wide array of Mediterranean and tropical plants, we were guided up to an old chateau, flanked by a trellised mandarin tree. Inside, a ray of sunshine through the clouds and arched windows illuminated the orange, yellow, and green citrus fruits arranged in botanical order on a white tablecloth.

Chef Raphael’s words, muffled by his dark, twisted mustache, described why the zest and fragrance of Menton mandarins were perfect in confections and tartes, while the pulp and skin of aromatic cédrat and bergamot were ideal preserved in aperitifs and perfumes. I ached to translate all the tips, yet felt content with these few: never over-knead the dough (and poke it before baking); use the crust itself (not fingers) to gently press the crust into the dish; sauté the lemon peel with the butter, egg, and sugar, then strain. A true lemon tarte must be smooth on top, like a mirror (or, it’s marmalade).

In the moment we were satisfied with two, tiny tarte samplings. But, for me, that wasn’t enough! In the ensuing days, we enjoyed fresh pasta drizzled with lemon-truffle oil, citrus beer and another a lemon tarte from a now-favorite baker in the farmers market. We sampled lemon-infused olive oil, lemon ganache in dark chocolate, mandarin liquor, and fleur d’oranger in Lebanese date-pistachio desserts.

We bought lemoncello over the border in Italy – and packed it up as a memento. Even without citrus fresh from the trees in warmer winter climates, citrus always evoke a sensation of joy, the richness of season, and the taste of the good life.