At the toe of our Christmas stockings each year nestled a walnut and a tangerine. They signalled in a consoling fashion the end of the unwrapping - edible treats you could eat immediately without censure. Their first appearance in the shops used to signal the start of the Christmas countdown. These days, like Hot Cross Buns, they’ve handed in their ‘herald’ status and therefore the frisson of excitement that came with peeling the first one of the season. Seems a shame.
The little fruits are part of a large crew of citrus that embraces three different main classifications of the orange: clementines, satsumas and mandarins, although there are other hybrids including the tangelo and the tangor.
Technically, the tangerine is a mandarin orange, a variety of Citrus reticulata, botanical name of the mandarin. It’s also known as Citrus tangerina, so called for its origins in Tangier, Morocco. But while the names are pretty interchangeable, a tangerine is always a mandarin but a mandarin isn’t always a tangerine. The Citrus Variety Collection of the University of California lists 167 different hybrids and varieties of mandarins, with clementines and satsumas covered by the category. What distinguishes the mandarin, though, is that it is the original orange - the ancestor of all other types.
Which means the orange isn’t a pure fruit. It’s a hybrid between a mandarin and a pomelo, originating in the vast region embracing Southern China, Northeast India and Burma. The earliest mention of it comes in Chinese literature in 314 BC. Of all fruit trees in the world, it’s now the most cultivated. Which you might have guessed from a visit to your supermarket, once you’ve passed the banana mountain.
Smaller than the common orange, clementines, tangerines, and mandarins are also sweeter and easier to peel, with a flavour far more intense. That peel dries particularly well (slowly in the oven at a low temperature) for using as a cooking spice in beef and lamb stews since they have much less bitter white pith than the orange.
Tangerines were first cultivated by an American, Major Atway, in Palatka, Florida. He is thought to have imported them from Tangier, to develop as a distinct crop. In 1843, he sold his groves to N.H. Moragne, who gave his name to a tangerine that in turn produced a seedling of the Dancy tangerine. (If you are a writer of Henry James-style novels looking for some for your characters, these are all excellent names.) Until the 1970s, the Dancy was one of the most popular varieties sold in the US. These days, though, it’s too sensitive and delicate for the voracious commercial demands of transport and storage, and besides only fruits every other year which isn’t a good business model.
I’m more of a clementines fan myself. They are a miracle of nature. History has it that the first one grew spontaneously, a hybrid citrus plant that appeared in the garden, in Misserghin in French Algeria, of the orphanage of the French Missionary Brother Clément Rodier, for whom it was named in 1902. Some dispute this, contending the fruit is native to Guangxi and Guangdong provinces in China. However, experts dismiss those as probable mandarin hybrids while the clementine is a cross between the orange and the willowleaf mandarin of Algeria.
There’s not just one type of clementine, either. There are three: seedless clementines, regular clementines which have a maximum of 10 seeds, and Monreals which have more than 10 seeds.
But before we get on to what you can do with clementines other than eat them, here’s a trick for oranges that makes either a decorative present when tied with a ribbon, or a pomander to stuff between your sheets and towels to make them smell nice: Take an orange and a bag of cheap cloves bought in an Asian market. Prick the peel of the orange with a toothpick and press a clove into it and repeat until you’ve left no peel showing. Dry out in a boiler cupboard or in another warm place till they feel hard and hollow.
If you want to get ahead on emergency winter store cupboard supplies, go for clementines. With their tight and thin skins, they respond readily to being poached. You have plenty of time - and this recipe takes very little of it - to preserve a stock of them in large jars or put two or three into a ribboned jar to give away. Serve with creme fraiche and perhaps a plate of cantucci or plain vanilla cookies.
Another thing you can do is puree them to make ice cream or sorbet - or a wonderful Middle East-inspired polenta cake. All this cake takes is 6 seedless poached blitzed whole into a puree and folded into a cream created by 6 eggs whisked with 275g/9¾oz caster/fine sugar until thick and pale. Next fold in 150g/5¼ ground almonds, 85g/30g polenta or ground cornmeal and 1 teaspoon baking powder then pour into a 23cm/9in round buttered springform cake pan. Bake in a 190C/375F oven for 45-50 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Cool before serving with a bowl of creme fraiche.
For 1 large jar of poached clementines
500g/1lb clementines (they will shrink by half)
250g/8oz sugar
500ml/8fl oz water
2cm/1in piece of fresh ginger root
1 stick cinnamon
1 star anise (optional)
½ teaspoon cloves
75ml/2¾ Grand Marnier, brandy or rum (optional)
Scrub then prick the clementines all over with a cocktail stick.
Bring the water slowly to the boil with the sugar, ginger, cinnamon, star anise and cloves. Boil rapidly for about 5 minutes then add the pierced fruits. Bring back to boil and then lower heat a bit and simmer for about 1 hour or until the fruit has softened.
Spoon the clementines into a sterilized jar. Bring the syrup back to the boil. It will have thickened and reduced. Remove the spices and let the syrup cool a little then pour it into the jar over the fruit. Add the brandy or rum. Seal the jar and give it a good shake to mix everything together and store in a dark place for 2 weeks before using.
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