There is nothing more thrilling for northern European visitors to Italy than the sight of fruit-laden citrus trees. When Hans Christian Andersen first saw a grove of orange trees, he exclaimed: “Here, here is Paradise.” Helena Attlee has travelled the length of Italy in pursuit of citrus, from Castello near Florence, a garden once owned by the Medici family with trees that are 300 years old, to the slopes of Mount Etna, where the garnet-red blood oranges grow. The secret of their extraordinary colour is temperature: “It’s cold, not warmth, that sets blood oranges on fire on the Etna plain.” But oranges are, apparently, relative newcomers. From the mandarin in China, the pomelo in Malaysia and the citron in the Himalayas, the genus has grown to include a vast number of species. Attlee’s sensual prose brings its extraordinary history to life. Her descriptions of the fruit – with their “yellow hands”, “rotund bodies” and “protuberances like long quizzical noses” – are wonderfully evocative. A beautifully written book, infused with the bittersweet scent of citrus fruits and the flavour of Italy.
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