Pomelo Head
Learning to eat pomelo + Michelin-starred Mango, Sago, Pomelo Pudding + Dreaming of Rhone whites in California
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The first time I had pomelo I ate it all wrong. I was in my early twenties, traveling in Vietnam with my brother, starting from Ho Chi Minh in the south, and making our way up the coast via the cheapest modes of transport we could find. Halfway through the trip we had decided to take the overnight train from Danang to Hanoi. It was a step up from the death-trap overnight buses we had taken earlier, but not by much.
We splurged on the first-class cabin looking forward to a lie-flat bed and a hot meal. What we found was two bunks, ledges really, that our large, Western bodies could barely fit into. And though we had been eating the food of Vietnam voraciously for over a week at that point, when dinner arrived what we found was not aromatic lemongrass pork or a steaming bowl of pho, but some lumpy, brown mass served with gluey rice. We left the trays untouched and split a can of Pringles.
Sharing the sleeping car with us, a Vietnamese family of three was wise to the food situation before they got on the train. As we watched they pulled delicious treats from their bags, one after the other, including some kind of grapefruit looking orb the size of the child’s head. Our large Western bellies grumbled. We tried not to stare as they deconstructed the fruit, peeling off the thick, spongy skin and separating the sections. Our grim cabin was for a moment, elevated with the bright tang of citrus orchards.
We must not have been hiding our stares that well, our loud bellies, as the mother reached across, handing us each a slice of fruit. We thanked them and hungrily bit straight into our sections, teeth landing into a tough, bitter membrane. This was, it turned out, not a grapefruit.
The mother just laughed and shook her head. She took my piece back. As we watched she peeled the cloudy membrane off, revealing a yellow-pink flesh. From that she took a piece, held it up to make sure we were following, and popped it in her mouth.
I have eaten pomelo many ways since then, most often in salads, dressed up with mint and crushed peanuts, splashed with salty fish sauce for a balance of salt, acid, and sweet. Perhaps my favorite way to have it is in a lightly sweetened dessert, Cantonese-style, such as a Mango, Pomelo, Sago Pudding.
When I worked at the Four Seasons Hotel in Hong Kong, I frequently entertained journalists over long meals the Michelin starred Lung King Heen. By the end of the feast my stomach would be bursting with dim sum, black garlic shrimp, and fried rice, yet somehow I would always find room for dessert. Each spoonful of the Mango-Pomelo pudding revealed a delicate balance of sweet and sour, plus bouncy texture from the sago - the perfect endnote to every meal.
A native of southeast Asia, it is easy to find pomelos at most Asian markets. However, in winter, it is not unusual to find pomelos at the farmers market or roadside fruit stands in Southern California. It is easy to recognize them by their size – like greenish, yellow dinosaur eggs. Of course, now I know what I did not on that train so many years ago: peel the pomelo once, then again, and this giant will reveal its treasure - a feast of desserts, salads, or just a snack for a couple of hungry travelers.
Recipe
Mango, Pomelo, Sago (or Tapioca) Pudding
The traditional way to make this pudding is with sago, a pearled starch derived from the palm plant. However, in the United States, it is much easier to find tapioca, a pearled starch made from cassava. The cooking process is nearly identical, and the textural results are the same. Feel free to use whichever is easiest for you to source.
Special thanks to Executive Pastry Chef Ringo Chan of the Four Seasons Hotel Hong Kong for sharing his recipe with me that I have adapted here. Serves 6.
¾ c. sago or tapioca
3 ½ T. sugar
100 ml water
200 ml coconut milk (full fat)
250 ml evaporated milk
2 large, ripe mangoes
½ Pomelo
Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Add sago or tapioca. Cook for 10 minutes until the outside of each ball is transparent. The inside should still have a white drop in the middle. Turn off the heat, cover the pot with a lid and let sit for 15 minutes. At this point the sago/tapioca should be fully transparent. Drain sago/tapioca in a colander. Then transfer to an ice water bath for several minutes to cool. Drain again and set aside until ready to assemble the puddings. (This step can be done a day or two in advance. Refrigerate, covered, until ready to use.)
Meanwhile, add the sugar and water to a small saucepan. Cook over a medium-low flame until the sugar is completely melted. Turn off heat. Add the coconut and evaporated milks and mix well.
Peel and dice the mango. Reserve ¼ of the mango for serving, cutting those pieces into a small dice. Transfer remaining ¾ of the mango to a blender and puree. Transfer the mango puree and coconut milk mixture to a medium bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, letting the plastic touch the surface of the mixture to help prevent oxidation. Chill for at least 1 hr., or until ready to serve.
While the sago/tapioca and cream are chilling, peel pomelo, separating the segments, and removing the fruit from membrane. Hand-tear the citrus into bite-sized pieces.
When ready to eat, assemble each pudding. Divide sago/tapioca among six glass dessert cups (glass is nicer here as you can see the elements better). Pour the mango-milk mixture over each to cover. You may need to stir each a bit to break up the sago/tapioca if it is clumping. Top each dish with a small tower of pomelo and diced mango. Serve immediately.
To Drink…
Tablas Creek Vineyard “Patelin de Tablas Blanc”, Paso Robles, California 2022
My lavender bushes are in bloom. Perhaps that is why I have been in the mood for the floral, aromatic whites of France’s Rhone Valley. Luckily, I don’t have to travel far to satisfy that craving thanks to the widely available Tablas Creek Vineyards.
Tablas Creek has been cultivating a taste for Rhone varietals planted in US soil for over three decades. The Paso Robles winery was born of a partnership between two premier wine families, the Perrin family of France’s Chateau Beaucastel and the Haas’ of importer Vineyard Brands in the United States. Recognizing the potential for Southern Rhone grapes planted in the Mediterranean climate of California, it could be argued that Tablas Creek created the market for Rhone-style whites in the state.
Also of note, Tablas Creek has been practicing organic viticulture since the beginning. Recently, it became the world’s first Regenerative Organic Certified winery thanks in part to a herd of sheep, alpacas and donkeys that munch on weeds and promote healthy soils.
The Patelin de Tablas Blanc is a blend of seven white grapes. Predominantly consisting of well-structured Grenache Blanc. Viognier, Marsanne and Rousanne add floral notes while Picpoul and Vermentino kick in minerality and freshness. A terrific food wine, I’d especially enjoy this with seared scallops, miso black cod, or grilled octopus in a citrus – perhaps pomelo - vinaigrette.
From $28 direct from Tablas Creek. Also available on Wine.com, Whole Foods and others.