A Microcosm of the United States
Diversity, Economics, Culture - and Healing
Resting elders can easily be likened to sleeping children: a lot can be forgiven.
Such was the opportunity last week when Paul and I made a quick turn-around drive from Portland to Sacramento to participate in his mother’s end-of-life care. Forgiveness arises out of compassion; compassion is cultured, apprenticed.
The broken continuity of the parent-child relationship. Developmental miscues in which one’s selfish intent rolls over the child. Future relationships are compromised. Amends go unfulfilled.
Yet, forgiveness often does wash over us, perhaps, if only for the restoration of the self. And so it was.
We set aside every podcast and productivity intention and, again, found each other’s company - and heaven knows the topography - infinitely more rewarding. The southern edge of the Cascade Mountains, its decrescendo holding one more surprise, enchanted us first with little Mt McLoughlin at 9,495 feet.
It saved the best for last.
Mt Shasta, named for the local Native American tribe, the Shastan Indians, has a disputed naming history, though its grandeur (elevation 14,179) is only equaled in the Cascades by Mt Rainier (elevation 14,411).
Shasta had a startling surprise on his southern edge: Shasta Lake, at the headwaters of the Sacramento River. Seemingly unending in size, the lake dams two additional rivers combined to service the Central Valley agricultural region through a federally managed system of reservoirs and canals.
In the diversity and dichotomy that can only be California, we drove past seemingly unending corrugated rows of almond and olive trees, beehive brood boxes sporadically punctuating the rows. The dichotomy of the hot, Mediterranean-like northern Central Valley are the fields of rice paddies as far as the eye could see.
What is impossible to imagine is the scale of America’s fruit and vegetable basket.
We softened our Pacific Northwest ingredient criteria to give the Central Valley a 1-time free pass for boutique citrus. Small producers of extraordinary varieties of lemons; Meyer lemons (Dove Creek, Canby, Oregon); Tango Mandarins and Seville oranges, both grown on small farms in California.
Santa Teresa Femminello lemons, from Rising C Citrus in Reedly, California, are an Italian variety known for its intense flavor and aroma. Biting through the peel and into the fruit was a bright-tart (in no way, unpleasant) taste experience. Our use? Limoncello!
Limoncello is typically produced in southern Italy, most notably along the Amalfi Coast, particularly in the areas around Sorrento, Capri, and the Gulf of Naples where the lemons are grown.
It couldn’t be simpler: lemons, washed thoroughly and dried; the vodka of your choosing (either 80- or 100-proof); and sugar for a simple syrup.
The beauty of making limoncello is two-fold: we decide how long to infuse the vodka with lemon peels: the longer they steep, the more lemony the result; and we decide how sweet to make the final product. Let’s say, the minimum steeping time is 1 week; I’m more inclined to steep for a month, given my desire to suss out and promote individual flavors. Taste for the lemony flavor you love as the peels continue to steep.
In a month, we’ll begin adding our simple syrup to taste. Simple syrups, of course, are equal parts water and sugar by weight, cooked until the sugar dissolves, then flavored - if desired - with a limitless number of additives.
There’s a sweet spot in every test project for me, and I know it when I taste it. I love Italian limoncello, and know exactly what result I’m testing for. More to follow in 30 days.
You may notice our ongoing use of basic home accoutrements like masking tape and painter’s tape in the kitchen. Painter’s tape? Restaurants use masking tape to date little ingredient experiments, to document temporary storage of ingredients, to monitor longer-term projects.
Every food or ingredient item in a restaurant is dated. It’s a useful habit to adopt in the home kitchen: open a carton of milk, sour cream, heavy cream, soft mozzarella, etc. and date it. Noticing the date on your ingredients seeds greater awareness of the last date you’re comfortable using it.
Remember… the “best by” date is the manufacturer’s suggested use date. Ingredients frequently have longer use. I prefer to taste. You be the judge.
Painting tape has unlimited kitchen uses because it peels off easily. Attaching a recipe to a kitchen cabinet! Securing open boxes of pasta! Creating a barrier on an open box of cleanser. Where to store cut pieces for reuse? On the back of the cabinet door!
Patience, as is said, is a virtue. Be that as it may, many worthy projects demand deferring immediate gratification. Such is Lemon Chutney.
I first discovered and edited this product recipe after culinary school when I was pastry chef at a local trattoria. In all honesty, I was dubious about its use and what the final result would be, given the conflagration of ingredients.
Life continues to surprise. The mixture initially tasted, ahem, raw and bitter. Having no immediate use for it, I socked it away in the reach-in refrigerator. My attention didn’t circle around to it for many months, and I tasted it again, haltingly.
Raucous. Rich. Rapturous. Culinary alchemy!
Lemon Chutney is luscious on a lovely slice of bread, on many soft, high-fat cheeses, chicken, pork, beef - on a charcuterie board! You’ll eat it right out of the jar, I promise.
Wonder is all around. We can be enchanted by the bounty, the often breathlessly beautiful world we live in - if we just look.
You gotta love a state where beauty abounds, and… where you can go the opposite direction anytime the need arises.
That parking lot peacock was quite a surprise. Peacocks in the middle of Roseville!
Tantalizing recipes and photos. Thank you.