Nachum Luria's straw hat has seen better days as he travels, in his open jeep, in the heat to his etrog orchards on the outskirts of Kfar Chabad, Israel. His face shines as we come closer to the orchards, covered in black netting to protect the workers and fruit from the sun. But Luria says that we still have lots of other predators in the form of bugs, “that come to attack the delicate fruit.” Among his many tasks is finding a pesticide that will both protect the precious commodity from nature's pests and yet not damage the fruit.
This Man Knows His Citrus; His Etrog, to be Exact
Nachum Luria’s straw hat has seen better days as he travels, in his open jeep, in the heat to his etrog orchards on the outskirts of Kfar Chabad, Israel. His face shines as we come closer to the orchards, covered in black netting to protect the workers and fruit from the sun. But Luria says that we still have lots of other predators in the form of bugs, “that come to attack the delicate fruit.” Among his many tasks is finding a pesticide that will both protect the precious commodity from nature’s pests and yet not damage the fruit.
Jewish law mandates that the etrog, a labor-intensive citrus that looks kind of like a lemon and is part of the “four species” used in the celebration of Sukkot, not result from any combination of other fruits. In addition, those fit to be used for the holiday only grow from spring until the end of summer.
This particular year poses an added challenge to Luria. The biblically mandated prohibition of Shemitah – or letting the lands of Israel lie fallow every seven years – meant that the orchard’s workers had to harvest well before the Jewish New Year of Rosh Hashanah.
“This year we harvested the fruits as early as possible,” says Luria, whose father-in-law first planted the etrog trees in the early years of Kfar Chabad, a town founded by the Sixth Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rabbi Yosef Yitchak Schneersohn, of righteous memory, in 1948.
