Ah, the grapefruit. When I was a nipper learning to cook, grapefruit was often featured on many an ancien regime menu, halved and dusted with demerara sugar, slaked with a generous tot of Madeira, then popped under a hot grill to be glazed. A maraschino cherry was placed atop, the fruit put in a glass coupe, then upon a doily … it made for styling that fully thwarted any real fondness for this antique of a dish.
It was to be many years before I could arouse any appetite for this benighted fruit – and that was with a rather good gin and grapefruit ice made by a bold cook who enjoyed an occasional sorbet or two. It seemed the fate of grapefruit to be grilled or iced.
The joyful burden of the citrus harvest jollies along the winter months. At the restaurant, we make phone calls aplenty to our greengrocers to find out which are the best citrus fruits available; there is great excitement when crate upon crate of bergamots, tangerines and tarocco oranges arrive from the southern reaches of Italy – just a few of the myriad hybrids of orange and pomelo taking their place on the shelves.
The very best of this bounty is the blood orange, the great harvest of which is all too short. Blood oranges do more than keep the doctor away: they give vigour and zip to tired souls keen for a ray of sunshine in the mornings, and brighten a glass of Campari at lunchtime … Little effort was required to imagine what a fine sorbet the two together might make. So fine, in fact, that Campari and blood orange sorbet remains on the menu for the entirety of its brief tenure of a few months. Then, just like that, the blood orange season draws to its close while spring makes its ascent.
But as in all good stories, not all is lost. There is hope. You see, many years ago, one happy springtime, a friend, while bemoaning the end of the blood oranges, served me a glass of pink grapefruit juice. It was the most beautiful pink and slipped down gloriously. Sharp, bright and restorative, the qualities of this fruit were abundant and immediate. A lively breakfast segued into lunch. There followed a swift request for the same juice with a generous glug of Campari, and a new favourite drink entered the arena. Even less effort was required in this instance to discover its qualities as a sorbet. As was hoped, the sorbet was a beauty, in every sense.
Florida pink grapefruit are particularly handsome – their flesh is a marvellous colour and they yield an extraordinary quantity of juice. I was once delivered a crate by a greengrocer who blushed deeply when asked the price, which was indeed worthy of a raised eyebrow or two. All I can say is they make the best pink grapefruit and Campari sorbet I have ever tasted.
Pink grapefruit and Campari sorbet
You can of course just freeze this recipe, whisking the sorbet from time to time and returning it to the freezer, but the texture achieved may not have the same result as when using an ice-cream maker.
May I suggest buying a fair few grapefruit? Thus, if particularly yielding and you only need three grapefruit instead of four or five, they will most certainly not go to waste, ensuring an excellent breakfast, a fine livener at lunch and, of course, a swiftly made sorbet.
Liquidising the juice and sugar in small batches diminishes any potential redecoration of both yourself and the kitchen, even from blenders boasting a good seal.
Makes about 500ml
500ml pink grapefruit juice, freshly squeezed
Juice of 1 lemon
120g icing sugar
50ml Campari
1 Pour the juice through a conical sieve and push through with a ladle.
2 Pour the grapefruit and lemon juice into a liquidiser with the icing sugar and blend until the sugar is fully dissolved. Stir in the Campari.
3 Churn according to the instructions of whichever ice-cream making device you are using. Alternatively, freeze in a bowl, whisking from time to time to keep any crystalline formations to a bare minimum.
4 A glass of Campari and soda would not go amiss when serving ... with a slice of orange of course!
Happy Campari: bitter co*cktails to sweeten up your springtime
Campari is an excellent aperatif made from more than 60 ingredients, giving a distinctive and unique bitter flavour. The famous red colour was once made with insects – a practice discontinued a while ago.
Campari and soda
Refreshing and restorative as a good friend should be, a generous measure of Campari, ice, a generous slice of orange and soda for an excellent drink that many think only for sunshine, but I rather enjoy throughout the year.
Negroni
The only drink to rival a martini. Equal parts of Campari, red vermouth and gin, a strip of orange peel; good ice that’s not too large! This is a superb co*cktail – peerless in taste and glamour and wonderfully stimulating. Reputedly created by The Count Negroni in Florence it was noticed, not surprisingly, very early on by Orson Welles. This precursor to the Negroni is a brilliant drink of Campari and vermouth, over ice, a slice of orange with the addition of soda water. It is the first drink James Bond orders in Ian Fleming’s first adventure, Casino Royale.
Campari and orange, or blood orange, or pink grapefruit
These invigorating variations of a great drink make a wonderful winter aperitif. The best oranges are those that appear around Christmas, followed by the arrival of blood oranges at the end of January, which are then replaced by pink grapefruits as spring advances. Each citrus fruit used gives a blazing brilliant colour to the drink and a feeling of life being restored upon the first sip. Fresh fruit, freshly squeezed only, please.
Old Pal and The Boulevardier
A son of Dundee called Harry MacElhone who bought Harry’s New York Bar in 1923. He is credited with creating these co*cktails, the Old Pal being made with Campari, vermouth and bourbon. The Boulevardier is made with Campari, vermouth and rye.
- Jeremy Lee is the chef-proprietor of Quo Vadis restaurant in Soho, London @jeremyleeqv
