The Citrus Report: Season in Review
And which orange wins Tomato Play's 2025 Citrus of the Year...
The Tangos are dry. The Daisies are gone. The once-sweet, pink flesh of the Cara Caras? Now flat and forgettable. In other words: peak citrus season in Los Angeles is coming to a close. And as we say goodbye to our pithy little friends, it’s time to reflect. To remember. To rank.
Every year, Emilie devotes herself to one citrus vendor. Last year it was Galpin’s. The year before, Arnett. But this year, it was all about Ken’s Top Notch—a staple at all our favorite markets: Atwater (Sunday), South Pasadena (Thursday), Victory Park (Saturday), and Hollywood (Sunday).
Their samples? The best. Their staff? Unreasonably kind. At Atwater, they even ran a guessing game—pick the right number between 1 and 100, and your citrus was free. And with everything priced at $3.95 a pound, you could really go wild. And we did. Week after week. Mix and match, slice and squeeze, taste and re-taste. Citrus as lifestyle.
And now, with the pride of a mother lion who has just birthed nine cubs, I present to you:
#9 Powell’s Navel
I had never eaten (or heard of) a Powell’s Navel before. They showed up late in the season—just when I was looking for a reason to live, or at least a reason to keep peeling oranges. My hopes were high. The name alone sounds presidential. Historic. Like Powell himself might carry the citrus season on its back for an extra few weeks. Unfortunately… Powell did not deliver. Powell’s are seedless, yes. Large, sure. But the flavor? Mild. The sweetness? Muted. They’re slightly less vibrant, slightly less juicy, slightly less everything than their better-known sibling, the Washington Navel. It’s not that they’re bad. They’re just... fine. If this were a love story, the Powell would be the guy who texts back but never asks questions. You eat it, you move on, you forget it ever happened.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 … 🟠 ?
Tartness 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠
#8 Washington Navel
The Washington Navel is the orange most people picture when they picture an orange. Bright, round, seedless, a deep innie bellybutton at the bottom. It’s the orange or soccer games, of Chinese restaurants, the grocery store. It’s the overachiever of the citrus world, and it knows it. Introduced to California in the 1870s, it basically built the state’s citrus industry and has been coasting on legacy status ever since. But the thing is? It still holds up. At its best, it’s sweet, juicy, and deeply fragrant—the kind of orange you eat over the sink because it’s just that messy. The flavor is straightforward and nostalgic, like childhood lunchboxes and Saturday mornings. It may not be trendy, exciting, or rare, but it’s reliable.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠
#7 Cara Cara
Cara Cara oranges are named after the Hacienda Cara Cara in Valencia, Venezuela, where they were first discovered in 1976. On the outside, they look like your standard navel orange. But slice it open and boom—blush-pink flesh, like a grapefruit that’s been sweetened by a love song. Early- through mid-season, they’re bright and balanced. But give it time. Toward the tail end, the sugars skyrocket and the acidity drops, and suddenly it’s less orange, more honey with a hint of rosewater.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠
#6 Minneola Tangelo
The tangelo is the fruit you recognize by silhouette alone—round, radiant, and crowned with that unmistakable bump at the top like it’s wearing a tiny citrus beret. A hybrid of tangerine and pomelo (or grapefruit, depending on who you ask), it brings the best of both: juicy and aromatic, with a tart-sweet balance that wakes you up. The peel is thick but relatively easy to remove. It’s loud, lush, and a little bit weird-looking—which, in the world of fruit, is usually a great sign.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
#5 Golden Nugget
The Golden Nugget is a lumpy, lovable mandarin that looks like it got into a bar fight. At Ken’s Top Notch, there’s a handwritten sign that says, “the uglier, the better,” and when it comes to golden nuggets, that rule holds. It’s often mistaken for being overripe because of its rough, pebbly skin, and the pocket of air between the peel and the flesh. But don’t be fooled. Inside, it’s sweet, juicy, and refreshing. This mid-to-late-season variety stays consistent and if you like your citrus ugly, and ridiculously easy to peel, this is your fruit.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
#4 Tango
The Tango is a bright orange, seedless mandarin and 90s-baby born and bred at California’s very own UC Riverside. It’s basically what happens when citrus breeding goes right. A reliable, late-season variety that holds its flavor for weeks. It’s sweet with just enough acid to keep things interesting, and easy to peel. No seeds, no bitterness, no surprises.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
#3 Kishu
The Kishu is the citrus equivalent of a baby—tiny, adorable, perfect, and gone before you’re ready. Barely bigger than a golf ball, seedless, and so easy to peel it practically falls open in your hands, the Kishu packs a shockingly sweet punch for its size. It doesn’t mess around with acid or bitterness—it’s just pure candy. Originally from China and beloved in Japan, it’s now quietly thriving in Southern California, where it ripens early and disappears fast. If you see them at a farmers market, buy them all. This is the citrus you hoard.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
#2 Page
The Page mandarin is a comeback kid, a short-season legend that disappeared for a while and left citrus lovers in mourning. But when it shows up? It shows up. Rich, complex, and almost floral in flavor, the Page tastes like an orange that went to finishing school. It’s technically a hybrid—part Clementine, part Minneola tangelo—but it has a personality all its own: bold, juicy, and just the right amount of tart. For years, it was off the radar (this was my first year eating them)! They are barely grown commercially, and (allegedly) only available through farmers markets or friends with excellent trees. The season is brief, the fruit is messy, and the reward is huge. If you spot a Page, don’t think—grab it. It might not be back next year.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Overall pick…
And now—cue the brass section, choir of angels, the ceremonial squeezing of Meyer lemons into the eyes of any doubters—we arrive at the moment. The moment that makes all other moments in citrus history shrink like a neglected kumquat in the back of the fridge.
We have tasted. We have tested. We have puckered, week after week, day after day, wiping sticky mouths with our hands, and sticky hands with our pants, in the unrelenting mission to crown an unequivocal champion—The Orange of all Oranges. And out of the all the crates and tables at Ken’s Top Notch Produce, one citrus reigned supreme. This citrus came out with a punch. Tart as sour candy at the start of the season only to return sweeter and sweeter each week.
Yes, dear friends and fellow fruit fanatics, it is time to crown the reigning monarch of the 2025 Citruspalooza. Raise your toothpicks and totebags, and give it up—for the one, the only…
🥁
#1 Daisy Mandarin
The Daisy is our number one pick. No contest. It’s petite and packed with juice that explodes in your mouth. Its flavor really goes places—tart up front, sweet through the middle, and zippy to the end. You could eat a dozen without breathing. We certainly have.
The color of a daisy makes all other oranges look pale. Its skin is thin and full of oil that perfumes your fingers as you peel, or don’t peel, because you can eat the skin (and you should). When Daisy first hit the market, it was by far the brightest and sharpest citrus in the shed—almost like eating a really good sour candy. As the season progressed, its sweetness deepened and the tartness mellowed, but it never went flat. Not even the last ones on the tree.
You can tell a Daisy by the little ring (or “bellybutton” as I like to call it) at the base of the orange, and also by the one rogue seed sometimes hiding inside like a signature.
It’s the mandarin you build a season around. The one that shows up mid-winter and carries you through. The one you think about when the season ends and nothing else tastes quite right. Let’s give it up for our champion, the 2025 Citrus of the Year—the Daisy Mandarin.
Sweetness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Tartness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Juiciness 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠 🟠
Now that we have dubbed the Citrus of the Year, only one question remains—should citrus be eaten cold or room-temperature? Sound off in the comments!