What industry do you think the mafia took up in the early days to establish authority and to incite terror? Drugs. Sanitation. Concrete. No, it was the lemon industry. Stunning but true. John Dickie writes eloquently about how the mafia's methods "were honed during a period of rapid growth in the citrus industry. Lemons had first become prized as an export crop in the late 1700s. Then a long citrus fruit boom in the mid-nineteenth century thickened Sicily's dark green hem" ( 26). One of the first targets of mafia violence and one of our first sources of testimony was offered by respected surgeon, Dr. Gaspare Galati. While he was not the first to be terrorized by the mafia, he was among the first to leave a written account of the terror they inflicted on his family.
I won't go on about the violence and extortion mafiosi used to stake out territory and terrorize owners of citrus groves to abandon their property. What I feel compelled to go on about, to figure out, is the serendipitous link between my encounter with this history and my recent appetite for making marmalade and mixing up all things citrus. Last night I made five pints of a rich amber colored three-citrus marmalade inspired by Eugenia Bone. And then I thought I would improvise with the applepears I had on hand and made a spiced apple-pear/Meyer lemon marmalade which had all the rich, amber qualities of three-citrus batch, but with a bit more zing. Photos and recipes follow... but I'm left thinking about the link here between the mafia and lemons- citrus groves and extortion. Listen to Eugenia Bone's story last year... and her turn to this rich 'tri-fecta' marmalade that is both bitter and sweet and inspires trust in the future - and inspires the psychic work of composing an archive of memories.
"When the house next door (which has been vacant for a year) goes up in flames in the wee hours of the morning, it’s pretty scary. When your own kitchen fills with smoke because flames are bursting from the kitchen windows next door, it’s really scary. Like round-up-the-pets-and-pack-up-your-valuables scary. Like pray- to-all-higher-powers-that-an-ember-does-not-jump-onto-your-roof scary. I’ve never in my life felt my heart pound so hard inside my chest. I can still feel an echo of that pounding.
And I am extremely grateful. I am grateful for the roof over my head. More now than ever in my life. I am grateful that I am constantly surrounded by family and friends. I am grateful for my cats and my dog, who make me smile and feel safe when I sleep at night. I am grateful for my life. I am grateful to be here.
I’m also grateful for this marmalade, which for a couple of hours helped to take my mind off all the craziness that has been swirling around the past few days. It’s a three citrus marmalade made of blood orange, pink grapefruit, and Meyer lemon, a sort of citrus trifecta if I do say so myself. This is everything I was dreaming of when this marmalade mission began – it has a very pronounced citrus flavor, a nice sticky consistency, and is just a tiny bit bitter. Plus, it’s absolutely gorgeous. You’ll be grateful to have it to put on your toast in the morning."
three citrus marmalade
adapted from Well Preserved by Eugenia Bone
makes 4 or 5 half-pints
4 organic blood oranges *
2 organic Meyer lemons *
1 organic pink grapefruit *
5 cups sugar **
1/2 teaspoon unsalted butter
*Feel free to change the ratio of citrus to your liking.
** The amount of sugar used is dependent on the amount of pulp your fruit yields.
Peel the skin from the blood oranges with a pairing knife. Cut the rinds into matchstick-size pieces. Place peels in a large pot and cover with 4 cups o water. Set aside.
Grate the zest from the grapefruit and lemons and add to the pot with the orange peels. Cook over medium heat until the rinds are tender, about 25 minutes. Do not drain.
Meanwhile, remove any excess pith from the reserved fruit. Cut the fruit in half along the equator and remove seeds with a pairing knife. Over a medium bowl, separate the sections of the fruit and squeeze the juice from the pulp. You can also use kitchen shears to assist with this process. Alternately, you can place all of the fruit into the bowl of a food processor and grind to a chunky pulp.
Measure the pulp and then add to the pot of cooled rinds. Let the mixture rest for 2 hours, covered in a cool place or the refrigerator.
Add an equal amount of sugar to the pulp and rinds. Add the butter. Cook over medium-low heat for about 30 minutes. When the temperature reaches 220°F on a candy thermometer, the marmalade is ready.
While your marmalade is cooking, fill your canner with a rack and bring water to a boil. Sterilize 4 or 5 half-pint jars in boiling water for 10 minutes. Remove the jars with tongs. Simmer the lids in a small lot of of hot water.
When the jars are dry but still hot, pour in the marmalade, leaving 1/2 to 3/4- inch of headspace at the top of each jar. Wipe the rims, set on the lids, and screw on the bands to fingertip tight.
Place the jars in the canner. Make sure there is at least 3-inches of water above the jars. Boil over high heat for 10 minutes. Turn of the heat and let rest for 5 minutes. Remove the jars from the canner . Allow the jars to sit, undisturbed, for 4 to 6 hours. You will hear a popping noise as the vacuum is created in the jars. Store in a cool, dark place or up to 1 year. Refrigerate after opening.
