Recently, I am finding morality tales everywhere and this is no exception. Is it a sign of impending age or a Tolstoy-like turn of mind? In any event, here is the tale, once again nothing more than unadulterated fact.
I fell in love with Clemintines in England long ago. In those days, California had its own citrus fruits and although they were good, they were limited in kind. Nowhere in La Jolla could one find Clementines, even at Jonathan's or Jurgensen's. Our family had an account at Jurgensen's, which would have meant that I could have carried home an armful of Clementines daily on my way home from school, had they existed!
Well, no one now would conceive of a market, whether a gourmet one or a corner ethnic shop where one could not purchase produce from every corner of the globe. They sell Clementines everywhere and indeed have attempted to create North American Clementines from Florida and California. The North American Clementines are NOT authentic in my view, tasting more like a cross between a Mandarin Orange and a Tangerine than a genuine Clementine.
In any case, Clementines from North Africa always are found in our Christmas stockings on Christmas morning and I buy them throughout the winter until they no longer are offered.
Usually, a box of Clementines will last for a month or so, and they are a traditional offering for the Lunar New Year (falling this year on 19 February). I try to have some at hand when the Lunar New Year begins, but my box of Clementines for some reason had mutated into something bizarre and otherworldly. The little fruits were as hard as rocks and had become somewhat discoloured. They had no signs of mould upon them but they were utterly impervious to any sort of normal access, short of sawing them open with a serrated blade.
I did not toss them but some one else did. Fortunately, because of the extreme arctic conditions here, they had not made it quite to the outside bin. I found them and decided to try to use them somehow.
I cut one open with a serrated knife and used the old-fashioned kitchen juice implement (shaped like a little dome... predating the various Cuisinarts and such) to grind it into juice. When I tasted it, I could not believe how wonderful it was. It was as sweet as nectar. There were almost a dozen in the box and I used them all. They made two lovely glasses of juice.
Ordinarily, I would think it wasteful to convert Clementines into juice. They are so easy to open and peel, so perfect to eat. In this case, however, I had no choice. Where some one else might have perceived them as nothing more than rubbish, I possessed the foolhardiness to experiment a bit further... and I found something glorious. The only problem is that they did not last to greet the New Year in two days!
About Me
- Valkyrie Hawk
- My name is Eugenia-Maria Martino de Conde. Freyashawk is the name under which I write game guides and play many games. I specialise in Northern mythology but my original academic background is in History and British Law. Mine is the view of an exile, a Swan-Maiden rather than a god. Not an exile from heaven (that would be arrogant), but an exile nonetheless. I have lived in La Jolla, Nepal, London, Southampton, Manhattan, Roma, Pennsylvania et alia but spiritually belong to no land. Thus the affiliation with the air, hawk and swan. A Valkyrie chooses heroes from the slain. Walking among the dead is disconcerting. My greatest loves are my daughter and my Puttikins, my Himalayan cat clan. As Freyashawk, I write strategy guides for games. Time to write another novel for a writer can be a Valkyrie, creating warriors from her imagination that inspire people in the eternal battle between good and evil. Therein is the power I desire.
