Say what? Kumquat

This is take from a paper in south Florida, and made me laugh this morning:

Column: Orange You Glad State Picked Fruit?
TOM JACKSON

In yet another move designed to offend the lowest number of Floridians, this spring the Legislature approved and, Friday, Gov. Jeb Bush signed, a bill proclaiming the state's official fruit. To the astonishment of absolutely no one, the ubiquitous orange claimed the honor and all the rights and privileges that thereunto appertain.
The orange thus joined other examples of Sunshine State conspicuity - the mockingbird, the manatee, the alligator, the horse conch, the largemouth bass, the zebra longwing butterfly and its very own self in fetal form (the orange blossom) - in the rarefied ranks set aside for official symbolizing.
(Want to get into a spat with some botanist? Mention that the state tree is the Sabal palm. Except that a palm is not, strictly speaking, a tree. It is, instead, a family unto itself, more closely related to grass than pines and oaks.)
Anyway, King Orange rules again, adding to its haul of honors that includes a county, a top-tier college football game, a stadium and a New Year's Eve parade.
Never mind that the official state fruit, while useful in the formation of knock-knock jokes (``Orange you going to open the door?''), absolutely defies rhyming. Welcome to a jingle-writer's nightmare.
Pockets Full O' Flavor
Meanwhile, unlamented and once more ignored, is the locally lovable little kumquat, abundantly grown in northeast Pasco County and favored throughout Indochina, to which it is native.
Indeed, the name ``kumquat'' derives from the Cantonese for ``golden orange.'' Which is orange, only better.
Unlike the orange, which arrives sheathed in a stubborn, unpalatable peel requiring inconvenient disposal, the kumquat is utterly edible, ``extremely juicy and tasty and usually [with] a sweet outer skin accompanied by a tart, inner flesh,'' say the experts at essortment.com. In short, eating the entire fruit, which is small enough to pop in your mouth, is the point.
And unlike oranges, you can walk around with your pockets full of kumquats; this is especially helpful for those waging war against unsightly belly fat who are susceptible to unhealthy snacking.
Beyond convenience and portability, consider also the kumquat's eminent rhyme-ability, which is wholly superior to the awkward orange. Why, this poetry-friendly, bite-size alternative to the unyielding orange fairly invites the typing of happy couplets.
Kumquat - say what? I say kumquat. Hits the spot. Yes, kumquat - in a pot, just a dot, you're gonna love 'em cold or hot. Yes, kumquat, ready or not.
New Category Needed
OK, maybe the orange is the 800-pound gorilla - make that orangutan - in the room. And it's hard to begrudge the fruit on the license plate its place among state symbols. After all, tangerines, grapefruit, tangelos and mangoes didn't get a sniff of the certification action, either.
But here in the county of the kumquat capital of the free world, where growers urge consumers to consider kumquat kabobs, kumquat chutney, kumquat merengue pie, kumquat stew and kumquat quiche, love of the fruit world's best-kept secret endures.
A change in profile is in order. Perhaps in time for next year's midwinter Kumquat Festival in Dade City, a legislative delegation can be recruited to consider naming the official state fruit that fits in your pocket.
Say what? Kumquat.
Columnist Tom Jackson can be reached at (813) 948-4219.