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Which Came First, Orange the Fruit or Orange the Color?

Which Came First, Orange the Fruit or Orange the Color?

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Is an orange orange because it’s an orange?

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The word “orange” traces its roots back to Sanskrit naranga.

Orange is a color that’s in between yellow and red on the spectrum. So which came first, orange the fruit or orange the color?

First, a little history. The word “orange” traces its roots back to Sanskrit naranga, which was their word for both the fruit and the tree it grew on. Over the years, that word became the old French orenge, which then entered Late Middle English in the fourteenth century as orange.

So if that’s how the name of the fruit came about, where did the name of the color come from? Well, as you’ve probably guessed by now, the name of the color came from the fruit. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the first recorded use of the word orange as a color was in a will written in 1512, fewer than 200 years after it first entered the lexicon as the name for the fruit.

Before orange was the name of the color, people typically referred to it as saffron, which existed in the English language before orange did. Or they’d simply call it yellow-red (for a reddish orange) or yellow-saffron (for a more yellowish orange).

Which Came First: Orange the Color or Orange the Fruit?

The citrus definitely got named first. The earliest recorded use of orange the fruit in English is from the 1300s and came to us from the Old French orenge, adapted from the Arabic nāranj, from the Persian nārang, from the Sanskrit nāranga ("orange tree"). The Sanskrit word's origin is unclear, but it might come from a Dravidian word meaning "fragrant."

The word's use as a color name doesn't crop up for another 200 years, in the early 1500s. English speakers probably didn't have a specific name for the color until the fruit was widely available in their markets and inspired one. Before then, linguists believe people generally referred to orange as "yellow-red," ġeolurēad in Old English.

What Came First: The Color Orange or the Fruit Orange?

Red heads don’t really have “red” hair. Same with red foxes and red deer. Even Mars, which we call the red planet, is more of an orange color in the majority of photos. So why are they called red?

Simple: when those phrases were coined, orange hadn’t become a color yet. Obviously the wavelength range of 590–620 nm existed in visible light, but we weren’t calling it orange.

Early Names for the Color

Prior to the naming of orange, orange things still had to sometimes be described in more detail than “red”. So in Old English, there was ġeolurēad. Literally, yellow-red. But it wasn’t a particularly popular color descriptor. A few other names were attempted for these colors, but none really stuck. Saffron, another food inspired shade, was first recorded as a color word in 1200. Citrine, a precious stone, was first used as a color word in 1386.

Crog, a yellow-ish orange similar to saffron, was a thing for a while. Tawny was an option as well, especially for brown-ish oranges. But none of these dominated, and in the 1390s, Chaucer still used “His colour was a light tawny, betwixt yellow and red,” to describe a fox.

Oranges, the Fruit

When naranga (an old name for bitter oranges) started to be imported into Europe, the name for them shifted. Languages with articles ending in the letter ‘n’ don’t create a clear distinction between the end of an article and the beginning of the next word.

So articles like ‘an’ in English, or ‘un’ in French blur with the word, and the ‘n’ in naranga gets dropped. This is called juncture loss. This led to words like ‘arancia’ in Italian and ‘arange’ in Old English, which eventually evolved into the word as we know it today.

Sweet oranges didn’t spread around Europe until the late 1400s. But then they quickly became popular with the upper class, and they also perfectly exemplified that one color: betwixt yellow and red.

Orange: Officially

The first recorded use of “orange” as a color word occurred after sweet oranges became well-known, in 1512. But it didn’t become a common word for quite some time. William Shakespeare, in the mid 1590s, uses the word “orange” in both the context of the fruit and the color. In the color usage though, he usually pairs it with “tawny”. It’s almost as if he was hesitant about using the word in that way.

By the late 1660s, when Isaac Newton began experimenting with light, “orange” had been well-established as a word. So when he outlined the colors of the light spectrum as shown through a prism, orange was one of them. From there, orange was pretty undeniable as one of the main basic colors.

The Color Orange or the Fruit Orange

Obviously the color orange has existed for an incredibly long time. But when it comes to etymology, the fruit comes first.

If this article scratched an itch for you, you might like Sporcle’s color quizzes or language quizzes. We’ve also introduced yet another meaning for the word Orange. Check it out.

Which Came First, Orange the Fruit or Orange the Color? - Recipes

The human eye can see millions of colors but it can take awhile for language to catch up. Take the color orange. Until the 16th century, there was no word for that color in English and even then, when writers referenced it, they said something like &ldquothat thing that is the color of an orange&rdquo.

Orange, however, seems to be the only basic color word for which no other word exists in English. There is only orange, and the name comes from the fruit. Tangerine doesn&rsquot really count. Its name also comes from a fruit, a variety of the orange, but it wasn&rsquot until 1899 that &ldquotangerine&rdquo appears in print as the name of a color-and it isn&rsquot clear why we require a new word for it. This seems no less true for persimmon and for pumpkin. There is just orange. But there was no orange, at least before oranges came to Europe.

This is not to say that no one recognized the color, only that there was no specific name for it. In Geoffrey Chaucer&rsquos &ldquoNun&rsquos Priest&rsquos Tale,&rdquo the rooster Chaunticleer dreams of a threatening fox invading the barnyard, whose &ldquocolor was betwixe yelow and reed.&rdquo The fox was orange, but in the 1390s Chaucer didn&rsquot have a word for it. He had to mix it verbally. He wasn&rsquot the first to do so. In Old English, the form of the language spoken between the 5th and 12th centuries, well before Chaucer&rsquos Middle English, there was a word geoluhread (yellow-red). Orange could be seen, but the compound was the only word there was for it in English for almost 1,000 years.

Also, it has never occurred to me before reading this that &ldquochromatically brown is a low-intensity orange&rdquo. . Anyway, this piece is an excerpt from the book On Color.

Thread: Orange, Naranja, Color and fruit. Which came first?

Moderator Join Date Jun 2017 Location Buenos Aires Posts 460 Rep Power 979

Eating By Color: Orange

Throughout the day you should eat a rainbow of foods -- red, yellow, orange, green, blue, purple and white. Each color is rich in specific nutrients that help make a well-balanced diet. In this series we’ll tell you why each color is important, and with Halloween around the corner, we thought it was most appropriate to start with orange. Find out how to get some on your plate every day.

What gives most foods their orange hue is the antioxidant beta-carotene, which also helps support healthy skin, hair and vision. Most folks typically fall short when it comes to beta-carotene in their diet, so it’s important to make sure you have some orange on your plate each day. The yellowish color found in citrus fruit doesn’t contain much beta-carotene, but is chock-full of another antioxidant, vitamin C which also helps fight infection. Here are 5 must-eat orange fruits and veggies, plus recipes to try.

Don’t worry if you can’t go pumpkin picking this season many recipes call for the canned stuff. Make sure to choose canned pumpkin and not the highly-sweetened canned pumpkin pie filling. Pumpkins contain the antioxidant lutein, which help give you healthy skin and eyes.

This orange fruit is a good source of potassium and fiber. Fresh ones make for an easy on-the-go snack. Apricot season runs from May to July, but you can use dried apricots year-round for trail mix or these Apricot-Oat Bars.

Besides being an excellent source of both vitamin A and C, cantaloupe is also a good source of folate. One-quarter of a medium melon contains 50 calories and can be added to salads or wrapped in a little prosciutto.

Carrots are a low calorie veggie -- a medium one has just 30 calories! Although you may have only seen orange carrots, they can also be found in purple, white and yellow. Dip carrots in hummus or one of these smarter dips or make an easy carrot salad, no mayo needed.

Did you know that mangoes are the most widely consumed fruit in the world? With a half a fruit providing 70 calories of goodness, make mangoes part of your healthy diet.

This bright yellow-orange fruit is an excellent source of vitamin C and a good source of fiber. They also contain an antioxidant called cryptoxanthins, which helps protect cells from damage. One of Dana’s favorite varieties of orange are blood oranges—they make a mean cocktail.

Sweet potatoes are the oldest veggie on record, and they definitely deserve their place at the table. One medium baked potato provides 105 calories, tons of vitamins A and C and a good amount of potassium. There are so many ways to enjoy this fall favorite, but this recipe is the most requested in my house.

Toby Amidor, MS, RD, CDN, is a registered dietitian and consultant who specializes in food safety and culinary nutrition. See Toby's full bio »

10 Different Types of Oranges You Should Try

Oranges are a refreshing and healthy fruit, but many people don’t realize that there are hundreds of different types of oranges. Packed with vitamin C and antioxidants, they can’t be beat as a quick, energy-filled snack. Many varieties are easy to peel and eat on the go, and they travel well, too. They’re just as delicious when juiced, or chopped and added into a salad. If you’re in the mood for a scrumptious orange, try our Orange Citrus Blossom® for an orange treat so decadent, your mouth will water.

Interesting Facts About Oranges

Winter typically doesn’t bear a lot of fruit, but the orange is one exception. Oranges are just hitting their prime in the winter months, bursting with flavor, antioxidants, and vitamin C.

Oranges are currently the largest citrus crop in the world, and actually originated from China. Now, Brazil is the leading orange producer in the world, producing about 30% of the world’s output. The United States comes in second, accounting for about 10% of the world’s production.

About 70% of the oranges grown in the United States are grown in Florida. California, Texas, and Arizona are also large producers. Orange trees, though they require tropical climates, are actually classified as evergreen trees. You might be surprised to know that there are 400 varieties of oranges that go way beyond the common navel.

Top 10 Types of Oranges

It’s fascinating to learn about new orange varieties you never knew existed. Here are ten different types of oranges you might want to try:

1. Navel Orange

Navel oranges are one of the most popular kinds of oranges out there. They are prized for their high vitamin C content, low acid content, and delectable sweetness. They’re known by the small growth at the bottom of the fruit, which resembles a human navel. When you peel them, you’ll uncover a tiny “mini orange” at the bottom of the fruit. Another feature that makes navel oranges appealing is that they’re seedless. They’re also easy to peel and are loaded with sweet juice.

2. Blood Orange

The blood orange stands out from every other type of orange due to its bright red flesh. Blood oranges are also smaller than navel oranges but a bit bigger than tangerines. Blood oranges have a unique flavor that tastes somewhat of oranges mixed with raspberries. They are relatively easy to peel, but are very juicy. They’re great for making salads, sauces, and marmalade. They’re also great for juicing.

3. Tangerine

Smaller in size and sweeter than the typical orange, tangerines are also very popular. They have a soft and thin skin, making them easier to peel than a typical navel orange. They’re known by their deep orange skin and flesh and are very high in vitamin C.

4. Acid-less Orange

Acid-less oranges have a low acid content, as their name implies. They’re also called “sweet” oranges, but they don’t really have much flavor. Since they contain very little acid, which protects typical oranges against spoiling, they aren’t produced in large quantities and are typically eaten, rather than juiced.

5. Mandarin

Mandarin oranges are smaller than your regular orange. They also have looser skin, a sweeter taste, and less acidity. Mandarins are commonly eaten as snacks because they’re easy to peel and practically seedless, but they’re also a popular ingredient for desserts.

6. Seville Orange

Seville oranges are also known as sour oranges. Due to their high acidity, they’re not typically peeled to eat as snack, but are used for cooking. Many people use sour oranges to make marmalade, salad dressings, or sauces.

7. Bergamot Orange

Bergamont oranges have a yellow or green color similar to a lime, but are the size of an orange. They have a intensely bitter and acidic taste and aren’t typically eaten. Instead, these oranges are grown primarily for their peel, which is used in perfumes and as a flavor for Earl Grey tea.

8. Clementine

Clementines are actually a hybrid between a willowleaf mandarin orange and a sweet orange. The peel has a deep orange color with smooth, glossy appearance. Similar to tangerines, they’re pretty easy to peel and are a hit with kids because they’re cute and easy to eat. They’re typically juicy and sweet, with a low acid content.

9. Trifoliata Orange

Trifoliate oranges native to northern China and Korea. They’re particularly interesting because they’re actually a bit downy, or fuzzy. They’re tiny oranges, and are used most often to make marmalade.

10. Cara Cara Navel Orange

The Cara Cara navel orange, or red-fleshed navel orange, is like a combination of a blood orange and a navel orange. It has a deep red flesh that’s sweet and low in acid. It has a complex flavor profile with hints of cherry and blackberry.

The next time you pick out some oranges at the food store or want to test out a new marmalade recipe, try a new orange variety. It’s sure to be delicious. Also, give our Orange Citrus Blossom® a try for an amazing orange treat. It’s packed with orange slices and all of our fresh fruit favorites, including strawberries, grapes, honeydew, and cantaloupe.

Color or Fruit? On the Unlikely Etymology of “Orange”

The human eye can distinguish millions of shades of color, subtly discriminating small differences of energy along the visual spectrum.

No language, however, has words for more than about 1,000 of these, even with compounds and metaphors (for example, a color term like “watermelon red” or “midnight blue”). Most languages have far fewer, and almost no speakers of any language, other than interior designers or cosmeticians, know more than about 100 of these.

In whatever language, the available color words cluster around a small category of what linguistic anthropologists often call basic color terms. These words do not describe a color they merely give it a name. They are focalizing words, and are usually defined as “the smallest subset of color words such that any color can be named by one of them.” In English, for example, “red” is the basic color term for a whole range of shades that we are willing to think of (or are able to see) as red, whereas the names we give any of the individual shades are specific to them and don’t serve a similarly unifying function. Scarlet is just scarlet.

Most of the individual words for shades of red take their names from things that are that particular shade: maroon, for example, which comes from the French word for chestnut—or burgundy, ruby, fire engine, or rust. Crimson is a little different: it comes from the name of a Mediterranean insect whose dried bodies were used to create the vibrant red dye. Magenta is also different. It takes (or, rather, was given) its name from a town in northern Italy, near which Napoleon’s troops defeated an Austrian army in June 1859, during the Second Italian War of Independence.

But whatever the source of these color names, all of these are just implicit adjectives, in each case modifying the withheld noun “red.” Sometimes, however, the link of the referent to its color seems a bit obscure. In 1895, a French artist, Félix Bracquemond, wondered exactly what shade of red “cuisse de nymphe émue” (thigh of the passionate nymph) might refer to. Unsurprisingly, that name didn’t last very long, but a successful cosmetics company today does sell a lipstick color it creepily calls Underage Red.

All the other basic color terms in English are like red in that they similarly subdivide into descriptive color words mostly derived from things that are that particular shade. Green, for example, works this way. Chartreuse takes its name from a liqueur first made by Carthusian monks in the 18th century. And there is emerald, jade, lime, avocado, pistachio, mint, and olive. Hunter green takes its name, unsurprisingly, from a shade of green worn by hunters in 18th-century England. Hooker’s green takes its name from . . . No. It takes its name from William Hooker, a 19th-century botanical artist, who developed a pigment for painting certain dark green leaves. No one is quite sure about Kelly green, beyond an association with Ireland. Perhaps it is the imagined color of what leprechauns wear.

Orange, however, seems to be the only basic color word for which no other word exists in English. There is only orange, and the name comes from the fruit. Tangerine doesn’t really count. Its name also comes from a fruit, a variety of the orange, but it wasn’t until 1899 that “tangerine” appears in print as the name of a color—and it isn’t clear why we require a new word for it. This seems no less true for persimmon and for pumpkin. There is just orange. But there was no orange, at least before oranges came to Europe.

This is not to say that no one recognized the color, only that there was no specific name for it. In Geoffrey Chaucer’s “Nun’s Priest’s Tale,” the rooster Chaunticleer dreams of a threatening fox invading the barnyard, whose “color was betwixe yelow and reed.” The fox was orange, but in the 1390s Chaucer didn’t have a word for it. He had to mix it verbally. He wasn’t the first to do so. In Old English, the form of the language spoken between the 5th and 12th centuries, well before Chaucer’s Middle English, there was a word geoluhread (yellow-red). Orange could be seen, but the compound was the only word there was for it in English for almost 1,000 years.

“Orange, however, seems to be the only basic color word for which no other word exists in English. There is only orange, and the name comes from the fruit.”

Maybe we didn’t need another one. Not very many things are orange, and the compound works pretty well. “Where yellow dives into the red the ripples are orange,” as Derek Jarman says.

By the mid-1590s, William Shakespeare did have a word for it—but only just. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Bottom’s catalog of stage beards includes “your orange tawny beard,” and later a verse in his song describes the blackbird with its “orange tawny bill.” Shakespeare knows the color orange at least he knows its name. Chaucer doesn’t. Shakespeare’s sense of orange, however, is cautious. His orange exists only to brighten up tawny, a dark brown. Orange doesn’t make it as a color in its own right. It is always “orange tawny” for Shakespeare. He uses the word “orange” by itself only three times, and always he uses it to indicate the fruit.

Through the late 16th century in England, “orange tawny” is commonly used to mark a particular shade of brown (even though chromatically brown is a low-intensity orange, though no one then would have known that). The word “tawny” often appears alone it names a chestnut brown, sometimes described as “dusky.” “Orange tawny” lightens the color, inflecting the brown away from red toward yellow.

The prevalence of the compound demonstrates that orange was recognizable as a color word. The compound wouldn’t work otherwise. Nevertheless, it is still surprising how very slowly “orange” on its own begins to appear in print. In 1576, an English translation of a third-century military history written in Greek describes the servants of Alexander the Great dressed in robes, some “of crimson, some of purple, some of murrey, and some of orange colour velvet.” The translator is confident that “murrey” will be identifiable—it is a reddish purple, the color of mulberries—but he needs to add the noun “colour” after “orange” for its meaning to be clear. It is not quite orange yet, but merely the color that an orange is.

Still, two years later, Thomas Cooper’s Latin-English dictionary could define “melites” as “a precious stone of orange color.” In 1595, in one of Anthony Copley’s short dialogues, a physician tries to ease the anxiety of a dying woman by telling her that she will contentedly pass away “even as a leaf that can no longer bide on the tree.” But the image seems to confuse rather than comfort the woman. “What, like an orange leaf?” she asks, obviously referring to the color of the leaves in autumn rather than to the leaf of the fruit tree. But what is most significant about these examples is that they might be the only two 16th-century uses in English printed books of “orange” used to indicate the color. In 1594, Thomas Blundeville had described nutmeg losing its “scarlet” color and turning “unto the color of an orange.” But this, of course, is referring to the fruit. “Orange” was still struggling to be the word for orange.

There are lots of references to the House of Orange, which still today is officially part of the name of the royal family of the Netherlands (Orange-Nassau) but this use of “Orange” comes neither from the color nor the fruit. It takes its name from a region in southeastern France still known as “Orange.” The earliest settlement came to be known as Aurenja, after the local water deity, Arausio. There are no oranges in this story and nothing orange. (And although it is often claimed that orange carrots were bred to celebrate the House of Orange in the Netherlands in the seventeenth century, that is an urban legend—although it is true, according to the historian Simon Schama, that in the 1780s, during the Dutch Patriot Revolution, orange “was declared the colour of sedition,” and carrots “sold with their roots too conspicuously showing were deemed provocative.”)

Only in the 17th century does “orange,” as a word used to name a color, become widespread in English. In 1616, an account of the varieties of tulips that can be grown says that some are “white, some red, some blue, some yellow, some orange, some of a violet color, and indeed generally of any color whatsoever except green.” Almost imperceptibly (though of course it was entirely a function of perception), orange did become the recognized word for a recognizable color, and by the late 1660s and 1670s, the optical experiments of Isaac Newton firmly fixed it as one of the seven colors of the spectrum. It turns out to be exactly what (and where) Chaucer thought it was: the “color betwixe yelow and reed.” But now there was an accepted name for it.

What happened between the end of the 14th century and the end of the 17th that allowed “orange” to become a color name? The answer is obvious. Oranges.

Early in the 16th century Portuguese traders brought sweet oranges from India to Europe, and the color takes its name from them. Until they arrived, there was no orange as such in the color spectrum. When the first Europeans saw the fruit they were incapable of exclaiming about its brilliant orange color. They recognized the color but didn’t yet know its name. Often they referred to oranges as “golden apples.” Not until they knew them as oranges did they see them as orange.

The word itself begins as an ancient Sanskrit word, naranga, possibly derived from an even older Dravidian (another ancient language spoken in what is now southern India) root, naru, meaning fragrant. Along with the oranges, the word migrated into Persian and Arabic. From there it was adopted into European languages, as with narancs in Hungarian or the Spanish naranja. In Italian it was originally narancia, and in French narange, though the word in both of these languages eventually dropped the “n” at the beginning to become arancia and orange, probably from a mistaken idea that the initial “n” sound had carried over from the article, una or une. Think about English, where it would be almost impossible to hear any real difference between “an orange” and “a norange.” An “orange” it became, but it probably should really have been a “norange.” Still, orange is better, if only because the initial “o” so satisfyingly mirrors the roundness of the fruit.

The etymological history of “orange” traces the route of cultural contact and exchange—one that ultimately completes the circle of the globe. The word for “orange” in modern-day Tamil, the surviving Dravidian language that gave us the original root of the word, is arancu, pronounced almost exactly like the English word “orange” and in fact borrowed from it.

But none of this actually gets us to color. Only the fruit does that. Only when the sweet oranges began to arrive in Europe and became visible on market stalls and kitchen tables did the name of the fruit provide the name for the color. No more “yellow-red.” Now there was orange. And, remarkably, within a few hundred years it was possible to forget in which direction the naming went. People could imagine that the fruit was called an orange simply because it was.

From On Color by David Scott Kastan with Stephen Farthing, published by Yale University Press in May 2018. Reproduced by permission.

A Quick Primer on the Etymology of the Word “Orange” and Why They’re Sometimes Green

This morning, Rob Delaney tweeted about oranges, and it made me curious about the history of the word. It had come up in an earlier article about why we call redheads “redheads” and not “orangeheads,” so I wanted to revisit it. Here’s why oranges are called oranges and why sometimes they’re green.

Here’s Delaney’s tweet that started this:

Good job whoever named the orange.

— rob delaney (@robdelaney) March 27, 2014

It’s probably common for people to assume that oranges were named for their color, but as I pointed out in the redheads story, the word for the fruit came first by more than 200 years.

It derives from the Sanskrit word naranga which refers to the tree itself rather than the fruit. After filtering through other languages (Persian narang, Arabic naranj, Venetian naranza, Italian arancia) we eventually get to Medieval Latin’s word for the fruit itself, pomum de orenge (inexpertly translated by me to mean “Fruit of the Orange Tree.”)

From there, we get the French word orange around the year 1300, but it wasn’t used in English to describe the color until around 1540.

Because it’s the Internet, a lot of people have responded to Delaney’s tweet claiming that oranges aren’t actually orange.

@robdelaney Oranges aren’t actually orange tho. They’re green & sprayed w/ ethanol before sale so that’s some real Dojo marketing 4 your ass

— Molly (@MollyBeauchemin) March 27, 2014

This isn’t entirely untrue, but it’s worth explaining in case anyone thinks their supermarket is just spray painting green oranges orange like the cards painting the Queen of Hearts’ white roses red.

Oranges can be green. While some fruits start out green and change color as they ripen, a green orange can be perfectly ripe. There are a number of conditions that can affect an orange’s color including variety, climate, and nutrient levels. Even after an orange turns orange, it can change to a green color due to the fruit’s chlorophyll.

To make them more appealing to grocery shoppers, packing houses “degreen” oranges by exposing them to ethylene gas. This gas destroys the chlorophyll held in the rind, allowing the orange color to show through—similar to how leaves change color in the fall. If you’re curious, the University of Florida recommends five parts per million as the ideal ethylene levels and recommends degreening at temperatures between 82 to 85 o F. If you want to know even more about degreening, you can read their full recommended guidelines for the process.

If you don’t want to read a four-page document about citrus packaging practices, just know that yes—sometimes oranges are green, and people use science to make them more orange. FDA guidelines do allow for the use of artificial colors in oranges without explicit labeling, but everything I’ve seen in researching this article points to ethylene degreening as the preferred method.

None of this changes the fact that whoever started calling oranges “oranges” did a damn fine job.

Orange (n.)

late 14c., in reference to the fruit of the orange tree (late 13c. as a surname), from Old French orange , orenge (12c., Modern French orange ), from Medieval Latin pomum de orenge , from Italian arancia , originally narancia (Venetian naranza ), an alteration of Arabic naranj , from Persian narang , from Sanskrit naranga-s "orange tree," a word of uncertain origin.

Not used as a color word in English until 1510s ( orange color ), "a reddish-yellow color like that of a ripe orange." C olors similar to modern orange in Middle English might be called citrine or saffron . Loss of initial n- probably is due to confusion with the definite article (as in une narange, una narancia ), but also perhaps was by influence of French or "gold." The name of the town of Orange in France (see Orangemen) perhaps was deformed by the name of the fruit. Orange juice is attested from 1723.

The tree's original range probably was northern India. The Persian orange, grown widely in southern Europe after its introduction in Italy 11c., was bitter sweet oranges were brought to Europe 15c. from India by Portuguese traders and quickly displaced the bitter variety, but only Modern Greek still seems to distinguish the bitter ( nerantzi ) from the sweet ( portokali "Portuguese") orange.

Portuguese, Spanish, Arab, and Dutch sailors planted citrus trees along trade routes to prevent scurvy. On his second voyage in 1493, Christopher Columbus brought the seeds of oranges, lemons and citrons to Haiti and the Caribbean. Introduced in Florida (along with lemons) in 1513 by Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon. It was introduced to Hawaii in 1792.

Watch the video: Which Orange came first?


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