At the beginning of the month, we were eating Satsumas, also called Satsuma Manderines, and we had between 30-40 seeds per orange. No joke! We counted them one time.

I got to thinking that it would be cool to have a few orange plants too, so I saved a handful of seeds from going onto the trash, and put them in a ziplok bag with the obligatory wet paper towel.

Today, almost 3 weeks later, I see some results. Three of the seeds have a shoot coming out of one end. This is exciting stuff and I plan on getting a few pictures as I put them in soil in a few days to a week.

I’m not really an orange person. I am, however, an orange juice person. Anyway, a few years ago I was introduced to the tangelo.  A citrus hybrid (and an orange in my mind) grown in Florida and extremely juicy. Us north easterners (almost wrote north eaterners, that’s a good pun for a food blog) don’t grow citrus, and it is frequently difficult to find ones that have traveled such a long way without taste damage. Maybe juice just travels better?

It is now December and my wish for tangelos, which arrive in January to my parents doorstep, has me in search of citrus! So as of late, I have been enjoying the satsuma. Of the marvelous satsuma, it’s a small orange, I attribute its flavor to its small size and dark orange color. A wonderful oblate fruit with darker flesh than the navel and much richer flavor. I ate a navel last night and was disappointed, because I really wanted the satsuma. I am so glad to have discovered this orange this year. I am falling for it, madly in love and I will be able to wait many, many days, a month even before eating the giant tangelo, part grapefruit, part tangerine and all love.

The satsuma though, I believe I had heard of it through the news a month or so back, and I thought, nah, I wouldn’t like that. It’s just going to be like a navel. But no, the Satsuma is juicy and tasty and fun to eat. It’s shape is funny, so when I eat it, I think “little satsuma, you are like me, weird shaped and small.” And I know that we will be very good friends, me and the satsuma, for years to come!

Today I had my satsuma with a small egg salad sandwich, on rye toast of course! Instructions for eating a satsuma, peel and enjoy.

Satsuma, Part II

温州蜜柑, さつま町

Satsumas. The family tree. Slocomb, Alabama. November 2009.

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Note: This is the second of my 2-part piece on “Satsuma”, a word whose meanings and connotations and connections cross hemispheres and centuries (as do most words, actually).  To read-up on where we’ve been so far, please check out Satsuma, Part I.  To repeat a previous caveat (or, perhaps, disclaimer), this is meant neither as scholarship nor literature, but will hopefully be something the reader finds interesting.

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So, how does a small, southwest Alabama town come to be named after a defunct Japanese feudal province?  Easy:  take a real, physical, tangible part of that province and relocate it to across the wide Pacific, then the North American continent, to cleared land just north of Mobile Bay.

Satsuma. From my family's South Alabama tree. I have one left from those I picked over Thanksgiving Weekend.

First, a little review.  Satsuma, Japan, is the name of a peninsula at the extreme south of Kyushu, the southernmost of Japan’s 4 main islands.  Up until the latter part of the 1800’s it was also the name of a feudal domain that — after an 1877 rebellion against the recently-formed, reform-oriented central government — was broken up.  Satsuma is also the name of a particular style of porcelain ware(occasionally derivative from the more famous Imari ware, also from Kyushu), first crafted (as all the first porcelain ware in Japan) by Korean artisans in the early 1600s.  And, Satsuma is a type of Mandarin Tangerine, first cultivated in China, although according to wiki:

The Chinese and Japanese names reference Wenzhou, a city in the Zhejian Province of China known for its citrus production. However, it has also been grown in Japan since ancient times, and the majority of cultivars grown in China today were cultivated in Japan and reverse-introduced into China in modern times.  (LetsJapan.WordPress Note: Wenzhou’s city flower is the camellia, same as Alabama’s state flower.

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Satsumas to Alabama

It’s worth noting that the Satsuma Rebellion was crushed in 1877, because it was in 1878 that the locals of Satsuma, Alabama, say that former Union Army General (and U.S. Minister to Japan) Robert Van Valkenburgh imported and introduced satsuma trees to north Mobile County, Alabama  (for more on Van Valkenburgh, please see Satsuma, Part I).  Van Valkenburgh had returned from his post in Japan in 1869.  We know that when Van Valkenburgh returned to the U.S. he settled in Suwannee County, Florida and, in 1874, was appointed to the Florida Supreme Court, in which he served until his death in August 1888.  I highly recommend your following this link to a bio on Van Valkenburgh, which mentions his second wife’s, (first wife Catherine died in 1863), Anna’s being instrumental in introducing satsumas to the Florida Panhandle.  Although some local, Satsuma, Alabama, lore suggests that Van Valkenburgh introduced satsumas to that part of the state, I can find no record of his having a direct hand in that.  Be that as it may, there is no question that Robert and Anna Van Valkenburgh were the link tying Sastuma, Japan to the Southeast United States and, ultimately to Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas where satsumas are still grown.

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Robert B. Van Valkenburgh

Cold Snap(s)

Bringing us up to the present day can be done summarily:  in 1910 “Pace Orange Orchard” maintained about 100 acres of pecan and satsuma trees in north Mobile County, Alabama and in 1915 the unincorporated town of Satsuma was established in the area.  Satsuma orchards were enlarged and it seems thrived, but a series of hard winters in the Deep South during the Teens and into the Twenties of the last century killed-off too many of the trees to make commercial cultivation, at least on a grand scale, viable.  Of course, some satsuma growers remain, notably south Louisiana’s Simon Citrus Farm.  Following are two photos from Auburn University’s archives of satsuma cultivation in Mobile County:

Picking satsumas in J.Lloyd Abbot's grove. November 1925.

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Mobile County Agricultural Agent, W.C. Vail, inspects satsumas. November 1925.

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In 1959 a Town Charter for “Satsuma, Alabama” was presented to, and approved by, Mobile County and State of Alabama officials and, thus, 2009 marked Satsuma’s 50th Anniversary.  It has a population of about 6,000.  It a particularly pretty little town in the spring, when the azaleas and dogwoods are in bloom.  Last Saturday (December 5) it staged its annual Christmas Parade.

Satsuma, Alabama, azaleas in the springtime.

Photo via this Town of Satsuma, Alabama website.

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The Other Satsuma

It seems no small irony to me that while there is, indeed, a Satsuma, Japan, that Satsuma (さつま町) was not incorporated, did not exist as a town named “Satsuma” until March of 2005, when the towns of Miyanojo and Tsuruda merged under the new name “Satsuma“, now known in Japan as much for its hot springs and traditional inns as it is for its citrus heritage.  It’s population:  27,300.

Satsuma, Japan.

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Hot bath at one of the many "ryokan" (traditional inns) in and near Satsuma, Japan

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Eclectica”

* “Satsuma” is also the name of a restaurant in London.  One of the lunch specials is a vegetable yaki soba for £5.00 (“Takeaway Only”).

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* “Satsuma” is a new brew (Satsuma Harvest Wit) by the Abita Springs brewing company of New Orleans, featuring the juice from Louisiana-grown satsumas (another Van Valkenburgh legacy).  Says Abita’s website:

“Abita Harvest Series incorporates the finest Louisiana-grown ingredients. No artificial flavors, extracts or oils are used in Abita Harvest Series, only real fresh ingredients that are Louisiana-grown and Louisiana True.”

Below you can watch an 8-minute video on Abita’s “Satsuma Harvest Wit”, if you’re so inclined.  I’ve actually had a couple of these and though I’m not much for “flavored” beers, I found it pretty tasty.

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*  Then there’s the London band, “Satsuma” (what’s with London?).  It’s not exactly my cup of cha, but, well, here they are live, singing “Quiet! Quiet! Easy! Easy!”  I do kind of like the verse about Brave New World.

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For anyone who’s made it through this whole thing and who isn’t totally exhausted, at least regarding “All Things Satsuma”, I provide the following additional links:

>  Auburn University’s Satsuma Page.

>  Texas A&M’s Satsuma Q & A Page.

>   A Satsuma Facebook Page.

>  A photo of the WWI Era Japanese Battleship Satsuma.

>  Links to the Louisiana’s Satsuma and to  Texas’ Satsuma.

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]]> http://chrisneillsdirtykitchen.wordpress.com/2009/12/12/its-a-miracle-i-do-declare/ Sat, 12 Dec 2009 12:38:11 +0000 Chris Neill http://chrisneillsdirtykitchen.wordpress.com/2009/12/12/its-a-miracle-i-do-declare/

Not so long ago I was driving slowly through the Liverpool rush-hour traffic on my way to a gig.  (It took place in a bar situated next to a club going by the rather sinister name of Baby Cream.  But that’s not really the point. ) In the car, as I was picking at my supper, purchased at the Oxford Services, I listened to the news on the radio.  There was a story of a woman banned from driving for eating a sandwich at the wheel and as I peeled a satsuma I kept half-an-eye out for a bored copper who might arrest me for reckless fruit consumption.  When I was nine years old, our teacher Mrs Jenkinson talked to us once of the miracle of everyday life.  “If you peel a satsuma,” she observed, “you will be the first person ever to see the inside of that satsuma.  Isn’t that amazing?”  A primary school in 1970s Teddington may not have been a white knuckle ride of thrills and spills but even then I considered the chances of finding citrus fruit exciting quite low, and as I’ve got older, fond as I am of satsumas, my expectations, I have to confess, have dwindled even further.  On this occasion,  I found not the peeling, viewing nor consumption of this fruit remotely inspiring, even the possibility of breaking the law didn’t create much of a frisson.  Have I just become irrevocably jaded and unable to enjoy the day-to-day miracles of which Mrs Jenkinson spoke?  Or had she just been talking bollocks to fill in the time before morning break?

 Satsuma Lynn
Over the past few months I’ve been fortunate enough to have worked with Lynn Russell of Satsuma Press. While we’ve managed a very successful collaboration with two greetings cards and a card for Heath Ceramics (see below), we’ve never actually met, as I’m in Cape Town and she’s in Corvallis, Oregon.

So while Lynn’s astonishing work ethic, her beautifully-kept journal and her meticulously-written emails utterly convince me that she’s one top-notch human being, I thought it’d be nice to ask some direct questions in this little interview:

I love that Max Wanger, who is an incredible photographer, shot my wedding line.

satsuma

noun

a smug satsuma putting on airs, as usual

listen…i love new orleans and all, but don’t believe the hype. local produce or not, “satsuma” is but a synonym for “orange.” or, if you’re from here, “urnj.” O_O

UPDATE: i ate one of you jerks today, satsuma. turns out, many of your boasts are true—you really do peel easily, and you really are seedless. but at the end of the day, satsuma, you still have stringy white stuff i had to pick off and sections covered with waxy, unchewable skin. translation: as stated, you are but another orange. good day.

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Satsuma, Part I

温州蜜柑, さつま町

What people in the Deep South call a Satsuma.

When I was a kid in Northern Virginia in the ’60s and ’70s, my father made a point of treating the family to oranges and tangerines and all such citrus fruit around Christmas.  There were always a couple of tangerines in the stockings on Christmas morning.  This was nice and I came to associate that citrus smell mingled with those of pine from the Christmas tree and hot chocolate and burning wood from the fireplace and sometimes snow  (in Northern Virginia) with the whole holiday season.

But I didn’t really get why all varieties of orange were so special to my South Alabama born-and-bred father until he, as well as my West Virginia-raised mother, would from time-to-time reminisce about growing up during the Great Depression and how a few oranges were such an incredible treat, were a luxury, around Christmastime.  Being raised during the “boom” ’60s and ’70s, such a time as that in which my parents were raised was difficult for me to comprehend.

There was another reason, though, that tied my father, who just past away last year just shy of his 86th birthday and his and my mother’s 60th wedding anniversary, to all manner of citrus as December rolled around.  Growing up in the very Deep South gave him and his family put them in relative proximity to Central Florida’s orange groves, whose annual bounty came in season beginning around late September, extending into the winter.  But there was more:  it wasn’t until the late 1970s, when my immediate family moved from the cacophony and concrete of Metro D.C. to the pines and placidity of extreme Southeast Alabama (7 miles from the Florida Line), that I began to learn that this part of the country had its own, “native” citrus crop, a direct descendant of what’s now Kagoshima Prefecture, Kyushu Island, Japan . . . and the Meiji Restoration, a retired Union Army General, and Civil War . . . in Japan.  How small the world is.  How integrated times and places can be.

May family's satsuma tree. November 2009.

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Connectivity

In 1878 retired U.S. General Robert Van Valkanberg, fresh from a diplomatic posting in Japan, made his way to the wilds of Southwest Alabama to make manifest his dream to become a citrus baron.  In 2005 two towns situated at the southernmost tip of Japan’s southernmost large island, Kyushu, merged to become the small city of Satsuma-cho, “-cho” meaning “town” in Japanese (さつま町).  Several times over Thanksgiving Weekend 2009, I walked out from the back door of my parents’ home in southeast Alabama, 7 miles from the Florida line, and picked and ate small, delicate, sweet and sour “mandarin oranges”, locally called “satsumas“, and thought of my father who about 10 years earlier planted the tree that continues to bring them forth, ready-to-savor, beginning around every early-to-mid November.

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“a most agreeable day”

In the waning months of the U.S. Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln appointed Congressman Robert Van Valkenberg — a New York lawyer who had raised militias to fight in the war (he commanded the New York Volunteers 107th Regiment at the Battle of Antietam) — to the post of U.S. Minister to a newly-opened Japan, a country that was experiencing its own internal upheavals after 250 years of isolationism, feudalism and internal stability.  The former ruling Tokugawa Shogunite (generalissimo) Regime had recently been toppled, the Emperor had been “restored” to his place of prominence as Japan’s leader, a cabinet of sorts had been established to advise Emperor Meiji on reasserting and consolidating his family’s position in Japan, and various skirmishes and all out battles were breaking out throughout Japan (and would do so for a couple of decades to come) between those loyal to the Emperor and those loyal to the Shogunite.  It was a confusing time.  And these were the times, in August 1866, that General Van Valkenberg arrived in Tokyo Bay and was received by the new, fragile government as Washington’s top liaison to Japan.  According to one contemporary account, it was, all in all, a most agreeable day.

Satsuma tree. Slocomb, Alabama. November 2008.

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Now exactly how Gen. Van Valkenberg became familiar with a particular type of tangerine grown on the southern tip of Japan’s southern most large island, Kyushu, appears lost in antiquity.  However, what’s not debatable is that as the United States’ Foreign Minister to Japan from 1866 until November 1869, there’s no doubt that he was treated and feted to all of Japan’s best delicacies, which would include the best citrus from what was then-called Satsuma Domain (Satsuma-han), later to become part of present day Kagoshima Prefecture.  Van Valkenberg’s familiarity with Deep South Japan also came by way of his intervening in one of the internal struggles — and battles — which flared between rival “pro-Emperor” vs. “pro-Feudal System” armies in Southern Japan, known as the Boshin War and waged in the heart of old Satsuma Domain.  Minister Van Valkenberg initially blocked the delivery of the French-built ironclad ship, C.S.S. Stonewall, to the Japanese government, desiring to keep the U.S. neutral during Japan’s civil war(s), but eventually delivery was made and a ship originally built for the Confederate Navy went into service as Japan’s first ironclad navel vessel.  Another twist to the story:  when in 1865 the then-named C.S.S. Stonewall (later renamed the Kōtetsu by the Japanese navy) first arrived off the U.S. East Coast, manned by Confederate sailors, one of the U.S. ships that met it was the U.S.S. Kearsarge, which in June 1864 sank the Confederate raider, C.S.S. Alabama, off the Cherbourg, France.  Small world.

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Coming very soon -  Satsuma,  Part II:  satsumas arrive from Japan to Alabama (and Florida, and Louisiana. . . ).  Cold snaps wipe-out dreams (ahh . . . doesn’t that say so much), new towns are born, beer’s brewed and, well, other things happen.

OK, shh, quiet everyone – we need to be on our best behaviour as apparently this blog’s been mentioned in the Swindon Evening Advertiser – or the Adver, as it was affectionately known back in my day.

Anyway, yes, erm – quick, tidy up that bit of code over there – check the spelling and grammar – make sure any images we’re using aren’t copyrighted – remove the swearing from that last political bit…  Ooh, it’s like parents popping round unexpectedly when you were a student!

Ahem.

Yes, so, um…  Where was I?

That’s right – I was going to tell you about my legs.  They’re a bit stiff from the frantic uphill powerwalking I did this morning with a no-longer-so-little Millie on my shoulders.

We left the house really bright and early this morning.  AmberG needed dropping at nursery first, as always, but I was hoping that if we had enough time after that Millie and I could stay on the bus all the way to Bexley where the Post Office depot have been jealously guarding a parcel of mine as though it were the holy grail..

And we were initially doing so well!  Two girls and myself up, dressed, fed, teeth cleaned, shoes hats gloves scarves coats – all on, grab Millie’s book bag and packed lunch, Amber into buggy, out of house to bus stop, bus to Sidcup comes quickly, get into nursery, Amber out of buggy, shoes hat gloves scarf coat off, fold buggy up, unfold buggy and get Millie’s book bag and packed lunch out, kiss Amber goodbye, make Millie kiss Amber goodbye and go and wait for bus towards Bexley where Millie’s school is.

Bus takes a long time to arrive.

Bus arrives, Millie and I get on and bus speeds off down the hill.

I get called a “dude” by some schoolgirls whilst peeling a satsuma for Millie..

SCHOOLGIRL #1: I can smell oranges.

SCHOOLGIRL #2: It’s that dude eating an orange.

I also take a look at my phone and have a missed call from an unknown number.  Bah!

Phone rings.  It’s from an unknown number.  No, actually it’s not an unknown number, it’s Amber’s nursery.  Ah, jeez, I think, what can possibly have happened to her in 15 minutes??

Have we forgotten anything? asks Michelle from nursery.

I do a quick inventory: one daughter with me, one at nursery.  No, I say confidently.

Millie’s book bag and lunch? asks Michelle.

I look at Millie.  Millie looks at me.  Millie, where’s your book bag and packed lunch?

Millie does a wonderful pantomime of looking all around the bus seat then looks up at me, eyes wide, mouth open.

The inside of my brain briefly turns into the Journey Planner on the Transport for London website, and I sigh upon realising the only way to get back to nursery in time is to get off the bus now and walk the quarter of a mile or so back up the hill with Millie on my shoulders and that we are not going to be able to get to the Post Office in Bexley unless a giant eagle swoops down, picks us both up and flies us there.

I check the sky, just in case…  No.

One of the sweetest citrus varieties, satsumas are best from October to December.

Satsumas belong to the mandarin orange family, which also includes tangerines and clementines.  They are a Japanese variety that were first introduced to the United States in Florida.  Today most American satsumas are grown in California and some in coastal Louisiana and Alabama.

Fresh satsumas are those with firm and tight peels, with no dented spots, and with bright green twigs and leaves still attached.   They will keep at room temperature for several days and a week or more if refrigerated.

Satsumas are an excellent source of vitamin C and a good source of fiber and folate.  Sweet and seedless, they are great in fruit and green salads and they make convenient and healthy out-of-hand snacks.

A 4-oz satsuma is equivalent to one fruit allowance, which contains 60 calories.  Enjoy a satsuma orange with some cottage cheese for a healthy snack.

Photograph courtesy of Jun Belen.

Emergency evacuation shelters are now open to help residents impacted by the storm by offering a safe place to stay, a hot meal, minor first aid, and a shoulder to lean on.

Satsuma High School
5458 Old Hwy 43
Satsuma, AL 36572

Theodore High School
6201 Swede Town Road
Theodore, AL 36582

For shelter information, to request assistance, or to report damage please call the American Red Cross Alabama Gulf Coast Chapter (251) 438-2571.

Can’t wait to get my hands on ‘em
The amazing, painstaking and endlessly energetic Lynn Russell of Satsuma Press has been hard at work, printing my designs! She sent me these two pics of the greetning cards and gift tags with my Seeking and Round Birds designs printed in leafy green and silver sage. Letterpress adds such a beautiful depth to a design – I’m a fan for sure!

Read Lynn’s journal, and you’ll be as amazed as I am that Lynn has time to work on this collaboration at all, because she’s got so much other beautiful stuff in the works, including her lovely 2010 calendars, just out. How does she do it all? Anyone in Corvallis, Oregon got some spare time to give her a much-needed hand?

I’ll be selling them in my store soon enough, but Lynn’s taking orders already, so email her here to order your Seeking and Round Bird gift tags, decorations and greetings cards.

Sunday, 27th September 2009

I attended another lecture  hosted by the Kyoto Ryoma Club. This time the speaker was Machida Akihiro of Meiji Gakuin University. He spoke about Shimazu Hisamitsu, younger brother to one of the great lords of Satsuma, Shimazu Nariakira, and the father of that lord’s successor, Shimazu Shigehisa.

Although Machida-sensei did not really touch upon the subject in his talk, what interests me about Hisamitsu is his role in the famous Namamugi Incident, or as it is sometimes known, the Richardson Affair, in which the British merchant Richardson was murdered by Satsuma men.  The incident led to the Anglo-Satsuma War, which in turn led to much cooperation between Britain and Satsuma and to the sending of Satsuma students to Britain in 1865 (a subject I have touched upon in a previous post).  The British residents in Yokohama were in uproar over the Namamugi Incident and were initially baying for the swift arrest of Shimazu Hisamitsu, however he managed to get away and was not pursued further. I’d like to delve into this topic further in a future blog; will keep you posted.

Saturday, 10th October 2009

Today was the 115th anniversary of Nakai Hiromu’s death. In the morning I visited his grave at Sokushû-in within the precincts of Tofukuji Temple.

This was the second time for me to visit on the anniversary of his death. Last year I was joined by two Kyoto Ryoma Club members, but this year I went on my own. I washed the grave, placed flowers and lit incense as an offering before paying my respects with a prayer. I felt somewhat guilty about not having my completed my PhD thesis yet, and could only report that I am STILL working on it. My only excuse is not having the time as I currently work a full-time job now. There was a young priest cleaning up the temple gardens after the recent typhoon. There were leaves and twigs all over the place so he really had his work cut out for him; still he had some time to chat to me briefly. I spoke to the mother of the house too. She told me how Hiromu’s descendent, Nakai Hiroko used to often come and visit the grave all the way from her home at the foot of Mt. Fuji. Nakai Hiroko is one of the ladies who established the Nakai Hiromu statue that now stands in Kyoto’s Maruyama Park in 1964. According to the mother at Sokushû-in, Hiroko is an elderly lady now who can’t really get to visit the grave these days. I gave her a copy of one of my papers and she said she would pass it on to Hiroko-san. The first time I met one of Nakai Hiromu’s descendents, I felt the reality for the first time. Until that point, Hiromu had just been an historical figure from dusty history books. On meeting one of his descendents the realism hit me. I’ll never forget that feeling. Hiromu is somebody’s grandfather, great-grandfather…

Saturday, 17th October 2009

I attended Day One of the Japan Writers Conference (JWC) at Doshisha Women’s College of Liberal Arts (DWCLA). It had been my intention to go and listen to Juliet Winters Carpenter speak about the translation project she is now involved in, that of Shiba Ryôtarô’s Saka no ue no Kumo. There are eight books in the series and Prof. Carpenter will be team translating them. She informed us she will be doing three of the books over the next two years!

Whn I lived in Aomori (1999-2002) I bought a copy of her translation of Shiba’s Saigo no Shôgun, or The Last Shogun. It was from this publication that I first learned of Prof. Carpenter. Shiba’s books are well-known as fairly difficult to read and with all the historical references his books must be terribly difficult to translate. As Prof. Carpenter herself said however, Shiba is one of, if not the most influential authors in Japan. Some might even argue that to understand the Japanese mindset it is essential to know Shiba’s work. However, to my knowledge, despite the tremendous amount of works that he has written, only The Last Shogun, translated by Prof Carpenter, The Tatar Whirlwind: A Novel of Seventeenth Century East Asia translated by Joshua A Vogel, and Kukai the Universal: Scenes from His Life, translated by Akiko Takemoto have been translated and published in English. It has always been one of my dreams to translate Ryôma ga Yuku; that too is eight volumes long, so if I am going to do it, I had better get started….