Oranges!

If you wanna put the joy back into January, peel an orange and breathe in: it’s like a sunburst right up your conk.

The smell of oranges is an aroma I’ve been taking for granted on a daily basis for years. But one morning this week I was proper overcome with their zesty freshness.

And it felt good to be alive!

I eat an orange every day thanks to my dear ol’ mum. Back in the day, when every other TV advert seemed to be for Sunny Delight she said, “why drink orange juice when you can just eat an orange?” She was so ahead of her time.

We all have our morning rituals. One of mine is to use a knife to cut my orange into eighths that I insert into my mouth like a gum guard so I can grin inanely, exposing my orange teeth to whoever happens to be nearby. It’s efficient eating and amuses me (can’t say how others feel about it). But it doesn’t release the essential oils in the skin like peeling by hand does. Which for reasons I can’t remember (probably my trusty fruit knife was in the dishwasher), on this particular morning, is what I did.

Peeling by hand, whether you bite or dig your nails to first break the skin, you are gonna release those citrusy solvents (limonene if you want to get technical) and they’re gonna go straight up your nose: whoosh!

Orangey orangeness in all its intensity.

There is some science behind it- limonene is one of those volatile organic compounds that just loves getting into the air, but also has a remarkable affinity with the sensory receptors up your nose. At least that’s what I read on the internet so it must be true.

As I said, orangey orangeness in all its intensity.

And, as long as you haven’t got any in your eye, you suddenly feel awake, alive and, I dunno, READY FOR ANYTHING. It’s such a joyous fragrance: uplifting, relaxing, refreshing. No wonder they used orange essential oil to ease depression, stress and constipation: I certainly felt uplifted, relaxed and like nothing, NOTHING was too hard!

I’m not quite old enough to remember when an orange and some walnuts in a sock was considered a good stash from Father Christmas; I’m of that slightly confused generation whose childhood experienced (suffered) the change from imperial to decimal and tangerines to satsumas (definitely suffered, but at least we didn’t have ‘easy peelers’. God I hate easy peelers. Never was a fruit so misnamed. But I digress). I can’t really remember when oranges weren’t available all year round. However, I still think of them as only coming from Spain and being only really in season in January and February. I love that this sunniest of fruit is at its best in these darkest of months. With names like Valencia and Seville, that lovely, lovely zing puts me in mind of carefree summer days in Spain. Not something I’ve ever actually done, but I’ve seen the adverts for package holidays and I’ve sung E Viva España.

It was a bit of a disappointment, then, to discover that Valencia and Seville oranges were in fact developed in America, that Navel oranges originated in Brazil. But the New World wouldn’t have oranges if the Moors hadn’t introduced citrus fruits to the Old World when they ruled much of what is now Spain. I take solace in the fact that a new variety, a real Chocolate Orange was developed in 2006 in your actual Valencia. The orange has turned full circle.

Don’t get too excited – the only thing chocolate about the chocolate orange is the colour of its skin. But talking of colour, you probably know already that the colour orange is named after the fruit, not the other way round. What you might not know, though, is that the word ‘orange’ comes from the Sanskrit, ‘naranga’ which means ‘fragrant’. The orange as we know it was developed from some wild citrus thing that smelled wonderful but that, by all accounts, was horribly bitter to eat.

The earliest literary reference to a sweet orange is in China in 314BC. B.C. That’s Before Christ, Before the Common Era or as I prefer, Before Citrus. I love the idea that, even earlier than that, somebody, in India or China, somebody must have tried to eat the fruit, and must have tried again and again, in the vain hope that maybe, this time, this wonderful juicy and joyful fragrance would translate into something edible. Somebody must have persevered until they either tasted the sweet result of a chance hybridization, or had the vision and skill to make that hybridization occur.

Who has that kind of vision, that kind of tenacity, and that kind of stomach?

That takes foresight, imagination and hope. Hope. On this particularly dark and dismal day, I shall enjoy hand peeling another orange, eating the flesh and then dropping the peel into a nice hot bath for a second hit of that uplifting zest and I shall wholeheartedly thank them.

The Smell of the Week: ORANGES