“It has no flavour, very little sweetness, and doubtful nutritional value.”
– Bob Wildfong, executive director, Seeds of Diversity
The Sisson Street Community Garden has become a sacred place to me. Some fifty neighbors and I put our tastes out on display, in neat little delineated squares, some (me) in unkempt chaos, others with towering beanpoles, and many burdened tomato cages. The crops are as varied as the methods: colorful peppers, luscious greens, beastly zucchini vines, and of course all manner of tomatoes. All summer long, our motley patch of vegetables soaks in the ample sun from behind the gas station.
In 2021 I decided to use my space to grow Citron Melons. My database contains a few dozen recipes for preserving the confusingly-named watermelon relative, but the actual melons are nowhere to be found in a Maryland farmer’s market. The only way to get them is to grow them from seed, or to know someone who does (intentionally or not – in warmer climates they grow wild in fields and pastures.)
Citrons are basically like watermelon minus the good part. Native to the Kalahari Desert in Africa, they are in fact related to watermelons – and are a possible ancestor. Unlike watermelons, they’re not especially palatable, but used to be widely grown for preserving. Due to their thick rinds, the melons can be stored (typically packed in straw in a cool place) for months on end. They are also full of pectin and can be combined with other fruits to extend their flavor in preserves. Their frequent pairings with citrus fruit may be the reason for their confusing name.
Because of that name, it is kind of hard to research citron and its uses, but most old recipes are essentially the same thing as watermelon rind preserves. A 1928 newspaper article indicated citron melon explicitly as one of the “best ingredients” for fruit cakes. By the time that piece was written, the melons had already become hard to find. “It is worth hunting for,” the author suggested.
As the fall approached and I finally amassed enough melons to follow a recipe with, they began to disappear. I sighed. I assumed someone mistook my Citrons for watermelons. Well, I thought, they will be disappointed. Yet the melons continued to disappear one by one and I grew irritated and dejected.
I resigned myself to grow them another year, perhaps in multiple locations, and I took a sample melon and cut it open, inspecting and photographing the white interior with its bright red seeds.
Eventually, I learned through the garden grapevine that mine and other gourds that had been pilfered never made it to anyone’s dinner table. It turned out that some of the kids who play in the park had been using them for projectiles to lob at one another. I had to laugh.
2022 has gone more smoothly and provided me with an ample crop of Citron Melons to work with. And so, finally, I flipped through my recipes and made some choices. Pickled Citron, Citron Preserve – and then there’s the host of recipes that could be referring to “real” citrons, the lemon relative. Citron Cake, Citron Ice, Citron Meringue. Those are out.
I knew I’d be working with a fairly old recipe. Citron Melon was a mainstay in old recipe manuscripts. Mary Randolph suggested using it to make a flavored ice dessert in the 1824 “Virginia Housewife.” A recipe appeared in Elizabeth Ellicott Lea’s 1859 “Domestic Cookery” flavored with lemon, mace, and ginger. Maryland cookbooks for the next several decades invariably included a recipe or two for some type of citron melon preserve or pickle.
Ultimately, it was a newspaper recipe that got my attention.
Mrs. Agnes M. Poist of Laurel Maryland won third place in the 1911 Baltimore Sun recipe contest with her recipe for “Old-Fashioned Citron Preserve.” Mrs. Poist didn’t bother with false modesty. “Anything more delicious than this recipe for preserved citron could hardly be found,” she wrote. “Everyone who has tasted it pronounces it first class. It has also taken first prize at a county fair.”
Mrs. Poist was born in 1877 to children of German immigrants, Mary E. and John A. Hohman. From 1897 until his death in 1914, John operated Hohman’s Cafe at 868 North Howard Street, across from Richmond Market, and near the Fifth Regiment Armory. The block was demolished and replaced with Maryland General Hospital, but the Richmond Market building is still visibly incorporated into the hospital complex.
After John’s death, his son, Agnes’ brother Henry, took over the business in some form. Henry is listed as a “confectioner” at the address in the 1930 census, and later in life he was a salesman of baking supplies, much like the people in another recent post.
Agnes M. was given the birth name Mary Agnes Hohman. She became Mrs. William A Poist in 1899 when she married Poist, who was a superintendent of street cleaning.
Agnes’ wedding attire was described in great detail in the Sun:
“The bride was gowned in grey novelty cloth, trimmed with cut steele and mousseline de sole. A picture hat of white plumes and chiffon and grey silk gloves completed her costume. She carried a bunch of white sweet peas.”
Agnes died in 1960 and is buried in Laurel with her husband.
The Hohmans were a fairly prominent family due to the cafe being a popular meeting spot for locals, but also apparently due to John A. Hohman’s personality. In 1911 the Sun wrote, “not only is Mr. Hohman exceedingly well-liked by the market people and those who live near his place, but every one of the older members of the Fifth Regiment holds him in deep regard. Many happy little parties have been held by the different companies in his dining room and the Duke [as Mr. Hohman is called in the article] always smiled on the festivities with a blandness that begot good cheer. Mr. Hohman congratulates himself daily on the fact that he resembles Grover Cleveland. Everybody who ever saw the late President agrees with him that he is practically a living double.”
Speaking of blandness, I was pretty disappointed when the preserves cooled down and I took a taste. After all that work seeding and cutting the melon (though not into the ‘fancy shapes’ suggested by Agnes; I only have so much time) I found the sweet and faintly citrusy cube that I bit into didn’t exactly thrill me. And I’d made a gallon of this stuff.
I put it in the fridge and bit into some of my remaining pieces of candied ginger, a shortcut I’d resorted to after I’d burned the ginger in the pan.
A few days later, I pulled a jar out of the fridge and, with some resignation, I ladled the chunks and syrup onto some yogurt.
The fridge had worked some magic. The citrus flavor seemed somehow brighter, the ginger came back, and best of all, the cubes had turned into alluring pieces of shiny sweet glass. Refreshingly cool, they resembled the sensation of lychee jelly candy.
Since then I’ve been snacking on the preserves and flavoring soda with the syrup.
I don’t know that I’ll grow the melons again, especially considering their appeal to curious children as a weapon in play. I’m glad I finally got my own taste of the Citron Melon, another formerly common garden crop that has become a lost curiosity.
Recipe:
“Anything more delicious than this recipe for preserved citron could hardly be found. Everyone who has tasted it pronounces it first-class. It has also taken first price at a county fair. To 6 pounds of citron use 4 1/2 pounds of sugar, 4 lemons, 3 seedless oranges and 1/4 pound of ginger root. Slice the lemons and oranges and boil them in 2 quarters of water until they look clear. Save the water they are boiled in, removing them from it into a dish of cold water, where they may stand over night. In the morning scrape the ginger root, slice it into three parts of water and boil it in the water 1 hour. Add to the ginger water the water the lemons and oranges were cooked in and the sugar, stirring till it is melted. Skim this syrup well. When the syrup is clear drop in the citron, slices of lemons and oranges. Cook till the citron is transparent. These preserves are excellent to serve with ice-cream or around an iced pudding. Cut the citron in fancy shapes.”
Recipe from Baltimore Sun 1911 recipe contest, contributed by Mrs. Agnes Poist
