Picture source: Fruitlogistica.de
Of all the fruit joints in all the towns in all the world, they had to be on the shelves of mine.
To be precise, these little Casablancan beauties were reduced. £2 to 49 pence. That’s got to be a bargain. But why did no-one want them?
For my money, it was the name. What would you call a small round mandarin-like fruit that tastes like a mandarin?
Indeed, it is a trick question. Because you would not call it a mandarin. Or, indeed, an amber jewel, or sunfruit, or anything alse that has rhythm or beauty in its title.
This little orb was called a Nadorcott.
Jars, doesn’t it?
Its history is a strange one, resting as it does with a Moroccan fruit pimp who profited from a contraband liaison between a thoroughbred and an unknown father.
Chance cross-pollination, they called it. I’ll say. The aristocrat was the Murott mandarin, and no-one knows who the downtown boy was. The offspring was, apparently, rather seedy.
The man who found them, waifs amongst the Murcotts, was called Mr El Bachir Nadori, a Moroccan who acquired French Nationality in 1997. And he tried the fruit and it was jolly nice, but the seeds were a bit much really, even for a Casablancan fruit.
So he separated the offspring. He planted them in a figurative ivory tower, where no cross-pollinating bee could sully their innocence. And he waited to see what the fruit would be like.
It was virtually seed free.
He knew he was onto a winner. This was easily peelable, flavoursome, a fiery little bauble with not a seed to get trapped in unsuspecting teeth. The Holy Grail of the modern fruit world.
And unlike the Grail, because Nadori found it, he got to name it.
Nador, for Nadori; and cott, as in Murcott. Making, in total, the Nadorcott.
Probably a bit better than using the Mur from Murcott, and the dori from Nadori. No-one would want to buy Murdori fruit, I’ll give you that.
But no poetry. An onomastic travesty. Dr Johnson would turn in his grave.
However: the rest is history. Ungainly names travel slow. That was back in the heady days of 1982, and it has taken until today for the word to penetrate my consciousness. That’s 31 years; the time it takes for light to journey from Gamma Pavonis to Earth.
There is an Association des Producteurs de Nadorcott (APNM). Its address is one I would sell my soul for: 21,000, Casablanca.
I stood in the supermarket and stared, casting about for someone with whom to bray like a donkey at this outlandish word. Nadorcott.
But had life gone differently, and those fruits chosen my farm, I may well have pampered my ego by calling it a Shrewsfruit. One can hardly blame Mr Nadori for seeking a kind of immortality in a small tangerine.
So I got home and started writing and peeled one of these things, and absent-mindedly ate it.
And another.
And yet another. They are moreish, these saucy little sirens of the fruiterer’s shelves.
Ladies and Gentlemen: I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Kate Shrewsday 
we have a variety called ClemGold here. Very yummy, and our name for it is definitely a bit more appealing
http://www.browniegirlblog.com/
one of our most respected food bloggers loves them. if you di back (or wait a few weeks) she uses them in so many ways
I must have a good look, Sidey, thank you!
She has revamped her blog, I will ask her for the clemgold recipies
I can trust you to give historic background of anything… almost anything 🙂
😀 This was quite funny, the more you looked..
I shall have to trawl the supermarches. “Cherchez le Nadorcott” will be my watchword.
…and the assistants will stare, baffled at you, and ask Pourquoi n’êtes-vous pas l’achat de nos mandarins français?
Never heard of them Kate! Lidl’s?
Nah. They’re still just selling oranges.
Oh but this was fascinating to me! And we have a wonderful name for them, Kate. It’s a brand name, I suppose, but I think we’re talking about the same mandarins. They are marketed here in California as “Cuties.” They are irresistible, and I can understand how you can’t eat just one. And why would you need to limit them at all? LOL! I’m so glad to have some background on the name Nadorcott…I wasn’t at all familiar, but I’m going to pay attention and see if he gets any credit with Cuties! If not, what a fall from the high places to have one’s name changed to one so childish! 🙂
Cuties sound eminently more edible, Debra 😀
They go by several names here, Kate ~ Clementines is one and Cuties is another. So yummy and delicious. 😀
They are. I shall be eating many more of them, I think…
As I read this my littlest is exasperated that I ate the last two tangerines on him. How was I to know he wanted them as his after school snack?
They are coveted by the whole family, aren’t they, Belle?
They really are 🙂 Delicious!
Kate, I’ve never heard of a Nadorcott before… never even seen them!
However, last week I bought some Citrus Fruits, that were actually oranges… although not. We live in a confusing world, don’t we?
We do. I like the little peelable versions, though. And they go so well in Christmas stockings!
Never heard of those Nador-thingies. They look a bit like our naartjies, but those vary from pipless to very pippy indeed.
Not a pip in sight in these ones, Col!
I don’t think those have turned up on our produce carts yet… and thank you for the Shrewsfruit giggle. We do have a brand of California mandarins called Cuties, which makes me smile as well, though without the wry British humor 😉
Sorry to have been such an absentee reader these last weeks. I’m shamefully behind everywhere, and missing my blogging friends fiercely.
I am shamefully behind here too, Cameron, struggling to keep everything up. It’s nice to see you when you come, but I know how life can sweep us away 🙂
Thank you for that entertaining lesson on horticulture Kate. I much prefer the jarring sound of Nadarcott to ‘cuties’ 🙂
I think I’ll pass on both. Madhu 😀
Am I the only one who finds these extremely tasteless and actually quite unpleasant to eat?? My mum bought them and i’ve tried them twice and won’t again, nowhere near as much flavour as a tangerine / mandarin. Never again!
Ha! I can feel a bot of market research coming on, Michael. Me and a big pile of Nadorcotts, tangerines and mandarins…
Hi Kate. As mentioned in an earlier comment, there is a brand name for these beauties – ClemenGold. The top quality Nadorcott is packed into this brand. Most ClemenGold is from South Africa, Spain, Australia, Peru and Chile. Moroccan producers also recently starting using the trademark into some markets. ClemenGold is similar to Cutie (a great US brand), but involves more supply countries and markets. Hope the brand name brings you more joy than the varietal name 🙂
PS: We loved your writing style.
I bought some Nadorcotts in a “foodie” store yesterday (”you’ll know you’ve found the right place” said the man who told me about it, “the car park is full of men in their Jags and Bentleys weeping because their wives are in the store bankrupting them”). Why on earth did I only buy four? Michael, I think someone must have done a sneaky bit of label-swapping, or perhaps your Mum’s fruiterer gets his supplies from Del Trotter. These are the sweetest, most easily eaten members of the orange family that have ever passed my lips. My grateful thanks to Mr Al Nadori
Glad they proved a good investment, Joe 🙂
I love these nadorcotts but thought it was a misspelling of Nardicot…another orangey fruit.They are incredibly moreish.Going to get some more tomorrow!!!
Just bought a bag of these. I’m in Canada. Since my daughter and I are into trying to grow citrus we’re researching. I’ve eaten two of these and they are lovely. One had 2 seeds and the other had only one. I’m soaking the seeds now to see if they’ll sprout. The bag was labeled “Clementines” but a further reading told me these were Nadorcotts all the way from Morocco.
Buying citrus trees here is expensive.
Just bought a bag of these. I’m in Canada. Since my daughter and I are into trying to grow citrus we’re researching. I’ve eaten two of these and they are lovely. One had 2 seeds and the other had only one. I’m soaking the seeds now to see if they’ll sprout. The bag was labeled “Clementines” but a further reading told me these were Nadorcotts all the way from Morocco.
Buying citrus trees here is expensive.
I discovered them in a market in Rye on the South coast of England. Delicious