The scent of lemons in the air,
a trace of blood in the soil
Helena Atlee's 'The Land Where Lemons Grow' is beautifully evocative of an ancient Italy steeped in citrus groves and soaked in late evening Mediterranean Sun. I defy anyone not to reach for a 'tart in a citroen' as I like to call the 'tarte au citron' or a sugary lemon cake (ideally drizzled with refreshing limoncello liquer and topped with a zesty blob of gelato limone) during this read. And that's before you get to the oranges soaked in sunsets and the sublime lime.
On the face of it a book about different types of lemon and how they have been grown through history, with a few recipes thrown in, isn't an obvious choice for a right riveting read; so the answer is it's also a well written travelogue, fascinating in anecdote and resonating on a straightforward human level. Take, for example, the reality of lemon growing in Sicily and Southern Italy which was so important and so lucrative that it gave rise to the Mafiosi. They were not, as American ex-pat urban myth would have it, the product of grinding poverty amongst the agricultural peasants but protection rackets set up by a few aristocratic and wealthy landowners.
My favourite though is the bonkers Orange fight in Ivrea. If you ever go please don't forget your red elf hat, otherwise it could end badly.
