It’s easy to be dazzled by all the spectacular citrus in the markets this time of year: blood and Cara Cara oranges, Meyer lemons, a dozen kinds of mandarins, finger limes smaller than your pinkie and Big Wong pummelos the size of your head.
But take a moment to appreciate one more truly great piece of fruit, one that virtually defined Southern California for more than a century but is often overlooked today: the navel orange.
A well-grown navel is exceptionally sweet, richly flavored and very juicy, especially when it comes from a great farm like Bernard Ranches in Riverside, and Polito Family Farm and Peter Schaner in northern San Diego County.
But its existence is perilous. “I’m staying with them, but just barely,” says Bob Polito. “I’m selling so many more mandarins than navels it’s unbelievable. A navel is a great piece of fruit, but if push comes to shove, if I have to take out something, it would probably be navels.”
Pop a wedge of one of these navel oranges in your mouth and you’ll understand why there was such a fuss about them when they were introduced in the 19th century.
Navel oranges were found in Brazil in the early 1800s, a “sport” or spontaneous mutation on an orange tree. First planted in Southern California in the 1870s, they quickly became the hallmark of California citrus, planted by the thousands of acres in Orange, Los Angeles and, particularly, Riverside counties.
One of the two original California navel orange trees is actually still standing at the corner of Magnolia and Arlington avenues in Riverside, protected by an iron fence with a bronze plaque that reads, “The most valuable fruit introduction yet made by the United States Department of Agriculture.” It’s like a monument to a hero of some forgotten war.
It is also a biological oddity. It’s naturally seedless; any new trees must be grown from cuttings of old trees. It’s also actually two oranges in one. There’s the main piece of fruit, but if you look closely you’ll see there is also a very tiny second orange that grows in from the blossom end. That creates the bellybutton that gives the navel its name.
For cooks, it also means that navels need to be treated a little differently than other oranges. While most oranges can be cut cleanly into segments (called “supremes”), that’s difficult if not impossible with navels. You’re a lot better off slicing them horizontally into wheels.
But that’s a minor inconvenience, given the flavor reward.
There are so many things you can do with an orange. Grind the zest to make a spiced salt (start with 1/4 cup of salt and 2 teaspoons of grated zest and vamp from there — smoked paprika is really good). Or make a finishing sugar the same way: Allow about 1/2 cup of sugar for the zest of every orange. Sprinkle this on shortcakes, cookies or other pastries.
Make candied orange peel by blanching the whole peel (pith and all) in boiling water three times, then simmering it in a thick sugar syrup (about 2 cups of sugar to 1 cup of water) until it is saturated and soft.
Or try roasting your oranges. Roasting adds a caramel note to the sweetness of the fruit and softens the bitterness of the peel.
Of course, you could do any of these things with Meyers, mandarins or any of those other trendy citrus fruits. But when you’re cooking with navels, you’re cooking with history.
Roasted Carrots and Oranges with Cumin and Pumpkin Seeds
Time: 50 minutes.
Serves: 4 to 6.
2 pounds carrots, preferably a variety of colors, peeled and halved lengthwise, then halved or quartered if very large
1 orange, unpeeled, sliced as thin as possible
2 shallots, sliced thin
1 tsp. cumin seed
1 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed orange juice
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1/4 cup toasted and salted pumpkin seeds
Heat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil.
Spread the carrots, oranges and shallots on the baking sheet and sprinkle over cumin seed, salt and black pepper. Drizzle with olive oil and the orange juice, and toss to coat everything lightly and evenly.
Arrange the orange slices and carrots in as close to a single layer as you can. Roast until the oranges are fragrant and have begun to color, about 20 minutes.
Stir carrots and oranges with a spatula and continue roasting until carrots are tender and lightly browned, about 10 minutes more.
Arrange the vegetables on a platter, spoon over yogurt and sprinkle with pumpkin seeds. Serve warm or at room temperature.
Salad of Oranges, Quinoa, Radishes and Feta
Time: 55 minutes.
Serves: 4 to 6
1 3/4 to 2 lbs. oranges, about 2
1/4 red onion
1 cup quinoa
1 3/4 cups water
Salt
1/2 to 1 tsp. minced serrano pepper
3/4 cup torn arugula leaves
1/2 cup chopped toasted walnuts
2 tsp. olive oil
3 radishes, sliced thin
1/2 cup crumbled feta
Grate the zest from the oranges and reserve. Peel the oranges and cut them into one-fourth- to one-half-inch crosswise slices. Cut each slice into quarters and set aside. You should have about 2 cups orange pieces.
Thinly slice the red onion crosswise into roughly one-fourth-inch sticks; you should have about one-third cup. Soak in cold water to reduce the sting.
Place the quinoa in a strainer and rinse under running water until the water runs clear, 1 to 2 minutes. Drain well, and turn the quinoa into a medium saucepan and toast over medium heat, stirring constantly, until it smells nutty and turns a light golden color, about 5 minutes.
Add the water, the reserved orange zest and one-fourth teaspoon salt. Bring to a slow simmer, cover and cook until the quinoa is dry, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside 10 minutes before fluffing gently with a fork. Cool to room temperature.
Turn the quinoa into a mixing bowl and gently stir in the red onion, serrano pepper, arugula and walnuts. Drizzle over the olive oil, stir gently and season to taste.
Mound the quinoa mixture on a serving platter and arrange the orange slices on top. Scatter the radishes over the oranges and then the crumbled feta. Serve at room temperature.
Intrepid queen of the navel orange
Southern California has certainly seen its share of oddball dreamers. But few can top Eliza Tibbets, the queen of the navel orange.
As detailed in David Boule’s remarkable book, “The Orange and the Dream of California,” Tibbets was a force of nature. She was born in 1825 in Ohio, was an ardent abolitionist who married three times, marched with Frederick Douglass and was a spiritualist — even before she moved to California.
Tibbets and her husband, Luther, came west in the 1870s with “a vision of creating a new life for themselves, along with a better world,” Boule writes.
They certainly did both, thanks to the navel orange.
Settling in Riverside, Tibbets was researching what crops might do well in this new farming area and wrote to an old friend in the Department of Agriculture. In one of those improbable coincidences that history seems so often to turn on, that friend had been corresponding with a missionary in Brazil who had been praising a variety of orange then unknown in the U.S.
Tibbets was able to procure some cuttings — driving her wagon three days from Riverside to Los Angeles to pick them up.
When the trees began to bear fruit, it was apparent that the oranges were something wonderful (the trees were also planted in Florida but didn’t adapt nearly as well).
Because the trees can be reproduced only by cuttings, which they provided, the Tibbets became quite wealthy quite quickly. They earned a reported income of as much as $20,000 in one year — at a time when the average California worker made less than $400 a year.
Unfortunately, in another all-too-typical Southern California twist, they lost everything in the real estate crash of 1887. Despite the fact that every navel orange tree in California traces its lineage to their two originals, the Tibbets died broke.
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