For me, Christmas tastes like oranges. Not just any oranges, but specifically navel oranges. You know the kind, right? They have that little bulbous bump on one end, which someone reasonably identified as this fruit’s bellybutton.
Every Florida kid knows that the navel is the sweetest part.
As a child, though, oranges baffled me. They have such a sunny, bright taste. Shouldn’t they be enjoyed on the beach with the juice running down your arm? Or a cup of tangy, freshly squeezed juice with the summertime brunch your mom managed to pull together on a Saturday morning.
But no! Oranges ripen as the weather turns cold.
Well, not that the weather legitimately turns cold in central Florida, but you get the idea. We pull out our sweaters and glance at that one winter scarf wadded up on the closet shelf. I would trade in flip flops for tennis shoes and wander over to my grandparents’ yard.
Yes, I do realize this is a picture of a tangerine.
They lived next door and had exactly seven orange trees. Wait, six orange trees and a grapefruit tree. They said they had a tree for each of their five grandchildren who lived on either side of them. My cousin had the grapefruit tree, which was unfortunate for him, because no one except one great uncle actually liked grapefruit.
I had one of the biggest orange trees, but it wasn’t my favorite citrus in my grandparents’ yard. They also had kumquat and a persimmon tree. But the best—I mean the best—was the ancient tangerine tree spreading wide and low.
You could walk over to that tree, tug off a tangerine, and even a kid who habitually bit off all her fingernails could still tear into the thin skin and get to the juicy fruit inside.
Some years, we would collect oranges and juice them with the ancient electric juicer my mom kept stowed away in an impossible-to-reach high kitchen cabinet.
You never see fresh-squeezed orange juice anymore. It tastes nothing like the store-bought stuff.
It tastes like Christmas morning. Probably because my mom would always make ambrosia, which is a mix of oranges, grapefruits (which I would push to the side of my plate), coconut, and maraschino cherries. Oh, and pecans, because my grandparents had pecan trees at their old house and everyone’s freezer was filled with bags of shelled pecans.
When I was a kid, central Florida had rolling hills covered in orange groves. Since Florida doesn’t have many hills—and zero mountains—any altitude achieved gives a long-range view of the surrounding land. When we would drive through the orange groves in mid-spring, say around April, my mouth would water. Have you ever smelled an orange blossom? It’s the most delicious smell imaginable. It’s like jasmine but richer, and when you’re surrounded by endless trees covered in white blooms? Unbelievable.
Over the years, those orange groves slowly, then quickly, disappeared. Now nearly identical houses fill rows and rows of subdivisions, which join with neighboring subdivisions to cover those rolling hills with browns and grays instead of greens and sunny oranges.
My grandparents have also passed away. My youngest cousin lives in their house, and I’m not sure if the oranges trees are still there. I know the tangerine tree isn’t.
But just yesterday I stuck my thumbnail into the thick peel of a navel orange. It coated my hands with sticky sweetness, and juice dripped between my fingers. I savored the first bite, glanced in my rearview mirror, and told my son how much oranges remind me of Christmas.
What tastes and smells remind you of Christmas? Share those beloved memories below!
Currently Reading:
Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody
I’m in full brainstorm mode for my second novel. I’m tempted to simply sit down and start writing, but I’ll be much happier in the long run if I take time to plot out my characters and story structure. I’m only on chapter two, but this book has already sparked so many hard ideas. I’m even reconsidering the hero of my story! Yikes!
In other news, I was rereading older Christmas posts from my blog. Last year’s post about All Mama Wants for Christmas still rings 100% true in my life. This year, though, I’m only asking for one thing: A ticket to a writer’s conference. And I can’t wait!