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This article was published in the February/March 2008 Wedge newsletter. The following information may be outdated.

Ask Professor Produce

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There are a few fruits that, when thought of, inspire within me a surge of passion and love that is nearly uncontainable. I know there are people out there who can relate to that—but according to the rest of our population, I am freakishly in love with produce.

When I think of Meyer Lemons, for example, a small spark ignites in my heart—they give me great satisfaction and the resonant pleasure that only the simplest, finest things in life can bring. Winning a hundred dollars is fun, it's a happening! But consuming a Meyer Lemon is an enduring experience—a reassurance that nature is out there being totally fabulous in a manner so casual and infinite that no human could ever hope to imitate it. Think of the smoothest, most together person you know, the one who can charm anybody or is adept at defusing any situation. A Meyer Lemon is smoother! We can only strive for what nature achieves simply.

I know you didn't ask for a love letter to Meyer Lemons, but February is a month of affection, is it not? So, I was pleased when I researched your question and uncovered not just an answer, but also a love story. Not a conventional one, but that most poetic and rare of love affairs, that of a human being's consuming love for the natural world. Those of us who love to eat, smell or just look at plants owe an immense debt to a one Frank N. Meyer, plant explorer.

Meyer immigrated to the United States from the Netherlands in 1901. At the tender age of 26, he was already a seasoned traveler and gardener, and was able to secure a job with the United States Department of Agriculture. At first he traveled locally, aiding various offices in California and Washington.

Eventually, Meyer had the opportunity to transform his job into a real-life version of Indiana Jones except that his rare and exotic treasures were not artifacts, but the fruits, leaves, stems, roots and seeds of various unknown (at least to the USDA) species of plant life. From 1905-1918, he traveled all over Russia and the Asian continent—gathering samples and sending them back to the United States. Meyer spent the majority of this time exploring rural Southern China.

Meyer's adventure-studded life was thrilling, but lonely. In a letter to a friend he wrote, "I am pessimistic by nature, and have not found a road which leads to relaxation. I withdraw from humanity and try to find relaxation with plants." He described his life as a plant explorer as one without friends, but frequently with would-be enemies. He left detailed accounts of knife fights, muggings and repeated threats against his life, as well as nervous exhaustion, depression and breakdowns.

Despite these startling challenges, Meyer single-handedly delivered to the United States over 2,500 different species of viable plants. He influenced our diet with such favorite foods as apricots, pears, peaches, persimmons, pistachios, water chestnuts, Chinese cabbage, bean sprouts, bamboo shoots and many varieties of soybeans and grains. As well, he brought back hundreds of beautiful ornamental shrubs, lotuses, roses and now common trees like Catalpa, Horse Chestnut, Chinese Elm and Gingko.

Traveling in China in 1908, Meyer discovered a potted lemon plant—the fruit of which must have stopped him in his tracks. The lemon, a variety cultivated by the Chinese from a cross between an orange and a lemon tree, was both sweet and sour with a thin skin, abundant juice, a color of astounding gold and a fragrance spicy, floral and cloying. It was, of course, the Meyer Lemon, though at the time he referred to it as a "dwarf lemon," a name I think we can agree doesn't begin to do it justice!

Caught up in war related chaos in China, Meyer decided to return to the United States in May of 1918 and boarded a steamer bound for Shanghai by way of the Yangtze River. He disappeared on this voyage; his body was found a week later in the Yangtze. The circumstances of his death are a mystery to this day, though his correspondents suspected suicide.

Which brings us to your question, doesn't it? Sometimes fruits are named after the people who cultivate a particularly special variety, sometimes they're named after their most prominent characteristics, sometimes after the region in which they're grown. In the case of the Meyer Lemon, it was named in tribute to the man who sacrificed companionship, and even his life, to find it. Naturally as one who loves these lemons, I can applaud this reasoning. A unique fruit calls for a unique namesake.

Meyer Lemons are in season and available from November through March, hitting their peak right about now. Their amazing scent and floral flavor is best showcased on its own in sauces and drinks, or when used to make mouth-watering lemon desserts. I'm thinking Meyer lemon tarts for Valentine's Day... what do you think? If you haven't ever tried a Meyer lemon, let Frank be your inspiration— boldly encourage yourself to expand your horizons, find a private moment and pay attention to the simple perfection that is Nature and her fruits. In Meyer's own words:

"Our short life will never be long enough to find out all about this mighty land. When I think about all these unexplored areas, I get fairly dazzled; one will never be able to cover them all. I will have to roam around in my next life."

Well said! There is only so much time to enjoy this rich experience—so try and eat the good stuff once in awhile!

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