I love kumquats. And you know, they’re in season right now. I was having a yummy dessert at Scala’s Bistro the other day, a honey cake served with a kumquat compote. It brought a smile to my face. I have a special place in my heart for kumquats.
Growing up, we had a kumquat tree in our backyard. We planted it when we moved in, and it for as long as I can remember, it was there. When we were small, we’d ride our tricycles round and round in circles around it. Throughout the 24 years we lived in that house, the tree was always there and just grew bigger and bigger.
As we got older, we’d sometime pick the fruit, and play with the kumquats. Smooshing them until they were soft and the essence was coming out of the skin. Then we’d spend the day smelling our fingers—that sweet and a little bit sour smell.
Well, I saw this post on Slashfood just days after my kumquat compote run-in at Scala’s. And I got it in my head that I had to write a post dedicated to kumquats. I wanted to include a photo of our kumquat tree (I mean seriously, I couldn’t write about kumquats without including a photo!) I searched and searched, and couldn’t find one.
We moved out of the house I grew up in last year, and so it’s too late to go and snap a photo. (Although, I will admit, I spent a few minutes wondering if I could easily sneak into my old backyard to take a quick photo of that tree without the new occupants catching me! Assuming it was even still there…)
It’s times like these, when I’m so thankful for my sister. She has a memory ten times better than mine (for all those memories that are just a little fuzzy to me, she remembers every detail), and just as I was tearing up thinking about the possibility of not having this photo, BAM! My sister pulled through.
Growing up, we had a kumquat tree in our backyard. We planted it when we moved in, and it for as long as I can remember, it was there. When we were small, we’d ride our tricycles round and round in circles around it. Throughout the 24 years we lived in that house, the tree was always there and just grew bigger and bigger.
As we got older, we’d sometime pick the fruit, and play with the kumquats. Smooshing them until they were soft and the essence was coming out of the skin. Then we’d spend the day smelling our fingers—that sweet and a little bit sour smell.
Well, I saw this post on Slashfood just days after my kumquat compote run-in at Scala’s. And I got it in my head that I had to write a post dedicated to kumquats. I wanted to include a photo of our kumquat tree (I mean seriously, I couldn’t write about kumquats without including a photo!) I searched and searched, and couldn’t find one.
We moved out of the house I grew up in last year, and so it’s too late to go and snap a photo. (Although, I will admit, I spent a few minutes wondering if I could easily sneak into my old backyard to take a quick photo of that tree without the new occupants catching me! Assuming it was even still there…)
It’s times like these, when I’m so thankful for my sister. She has a memory ten times better than mine (for all those memories that are just a little fuzzy to me, she remembers every detail), and just as I was tearing up thinking about the possibility of not having this photo, BAM! My sister pulled through.
Our precious kumquat tree in our old backyard
Does anyone have some kumquats they can share with me? Just holding a few in my hands would make me so happy. Maybe the Farmer's Market next Saturday?
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