As a little girl, a poster hung on my bedroom wall of Rousseau’s fantastical landscape with its rust-colored sun peeking through a dark canopy of leaves and oranges. The flat style of the painting gave off a mood of bewitching calm and tension that I’ve often associated with dusk and citrus groves. There’s nothing like a perfect circle dangling in front of you, and the sudden urge to pick it right off the tree and devour it. But I’ve learned to stay patient, preparing a salad of oranges can rival the flavor of a hand-picked one.
When I arrived in Ojai, California, ready to self-isolate for fourteen days with my folks, the citrus harvest had taken off. I woke to the scent of orange blossoms, and when I went for my first walk around the neighborhood, I found trees covered in a halo of flowers and ripe fruit. Some were even bent over, so full of smooth lemons their branches had broken off.
From the mountains above, the floor of the Ojai Valley looks like a green carpet of over 50 citrus orchards and olive groves that stretch on for acres. The arid landscape and climate remind many of Sicily. While the histories clearly differ, many varieties of citrus, like Sanguinelli and Tarocco blood oranges, thrive in both places. Unlike some of us who changed residence for quarantine, farmers of these crops cannot afford to be fickle or indecisive, criss-crossing the country on a whim or replacing orange types on the spot. Citrus trees only start to produce sizable amounts in their teens.
The last time I experienced the luxury of citrus in abundance was on a day-trip to Naples in January. Exploring the bay, I bought a hefty bag of tangerines for pennies. I remember the price seemed far too low, almost free. I ate the oranges like a gift and shared them with my travel friends.
I have little to no experience preparing orange anything because I have never lived in a land of oranges until now. I asked a Sicilian from Catania for his recommendation on what to make. He suggested a simple orange salad drizzled with the best olive oil (it is and will always be cutrera) with a hint of mint and cinnamon. For a bit of a kick, he suggested I add fresh jalepeño. I went for it.
They say no citrus tree tastes the same. How the sun hits the fruit and where your first bite happens - on the stem or the flower half - affects the flavor. For this salad, I plucked oranges from neighbors’ yards and visited a packing plant where growers sell their signature Ojai Pixies and other varieties.
In this salad, the color tempts you first. The coral-pink slivers of cava cava oranges look good against the tiger shade of tangerine and wine-colored blood oranges. But then the flavor of so many different oranges all at once takes over.
The pleasure of preparing orange dishes is not new for humanity, while it is new to me. From China to Italy, oranges mesmerized Alexander the Great, King Louis XIV, and Italian Renaissance painters. Fruit of the gods, Hercules once stole these “golden apples.” Some fell for the taste, others for the scent, but everyone for the sight.
I hope this salad brings freshness to your table, in both taste and smell, and captures the beauty of the Mediterranean and Californian countryside.
Sicilian Orange Salad with Mint, Olive and Cinnamon by Abigail Napp
Ingredients:
8 small oranges (navel oranges, Ojai Pixies, blood oranges, cara cara oranges)
1 handful of salt-cured olives (Mission variety)
1 slice of red onion or shallot
1 handful of mint leaves
½ jalapeño
½ lemon
3 pinches of rock salt
3 pinches of cinnamon
Olive oil for drizzling on top
Method:
Peel the oranges with a knife, removing the skin. Slice the orange into thin rounds. Set aside.
Slice a handful of salted olives into quarters, removing their pits. Set aside.
Take a red onion and cut a thin slice, almost translucent. Pull apart into half-moon slivers. (A mandolin might be the easiest way to get there.) Set aside.
Remove leaves from a sprig of mint. Set aside.
Arrange the orange slices onto a plate. Add the red onion, the salted olives and mint leaves on top.
Dust the salad with cinnamon and salt.
Squeeze half a lemon and drizzle a bit of olive oil to finish.