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Published 1986
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The first time I met up with pummelo was in a tiny family restaurant in Martinique. The menu included conserve de chadec (a French corruption of Shaddock or Chaddock, the captain who brought the fruit seed to the West Indies in the mid-seventeenth century). This turned out to be a few slim slices of peel preserved in thick syrup, dropped unceremoniously on a dingy saucer. A standard dessert in the Antilles, it was absolutely delicious. The second meeting was at a Chinese New Year celebration in New York City, where the entire giant, grapefruit-like fruit was offered as part of a ceremony. (Unfortunately the role it played at the celebration was spiritual, not corporeal, so it went untasted.) The third was in Singapore, during pummelo season, when an entire block of markets is devoted to the fruit. Here, I tasted many.
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