In a world full of perfectly wonderful things, there are few more wonderfully perfect than clementines, a variety of tangerine that appear in blessed abundance in local grocery stores from mid-
December through mid-February. These little Spanish beauties bring joy and sweetness to our lives just when we have reached our breaking points with frigid temps and icy windstorms.
Right now, toward the end of their season here, the price has dropped to an affordable five dollars for a crate of 24 or so, and I bought one for the kids and one for myself. I never thought I'd ever say this, but for now, clementines beat out the world's finest chocolates as my preferred indulgence.
Where do I begin to explain my infatuation? Their near perfect roundness settles heavily into my cupped palm in the most sensuous manner. I rub my fingers along the highly polished, leathery skin, releasing pungent oils into the air. I lift the glowing body to my nose, breathe in the citrusy musk and close my eyes in ecstasy. The feel of the slightly nubby, oil-slicked peel against my lips is almost more than I can bear, and I must sit before my knees betray me, sending me crashing to the floor.
Then I plunge my thumb into the peel at the stem end, where it has parted from the flesh, as if in anticipation of the rent. The clementine's thin skin comes away easily, hurriedly, perhaps eagerly? When my fingers rip it apart, the peel sounds like heavy silk tearing - thread by thread, strands of pith fly away from the fruit, like buttons from a lover's shirt in a moment of unbridled passion.
A globe of segmented lust fills my hand. The first clementine is pulled in two and one half disappears behind my lips, my mouth pressing the segments until their juices spill over my tongue and down my throat. The other half meets the same fate.
The second clementine is consumed more slowly, after a careful examination of each segment as it is pulled away from the others. Sometimes, I pull too roughly and the skin splits, squirting juice onto my face, my lips, my nose. I don't care. I am lost in clementine heaven.
I don't want to stop at two, but if I don't there won't be any left for tomorrow...and I want there to be some for tomorrow.
14 comments:
You make it sounds like a sensual experience... almost X rated!
It is of course their easy peeling that makes them so charming; oranges by contrast are such a fuss. I take it none of the US states have a vegetable/fruit sub-section to the law which renders carnal relations with an animal an offence. Your description had less to do with consumption and far more to do with violation. In fact you may have written something that matches the old-fashioned definition of obscene - ie, tends to corrupt. But then I'm a violater myself and in an hour's time my brunch will conclude with a clementine or one of its siblings - tangerine or satsuma.
Incidentally although very nearly comprehensive you missed out one stage in your citrus rape scenario. With the fruit peeled and segmented it only remains to remove the thin white strands of "core" that run from top to bottom along the thin end of the wedges. Yet again, the task is so simple it's almost enjoyable.
Steve, perhaps I went overboard with my descriptions - was bored and just playing with words.
BB: hope your citrus interlude was pleasant. Mine certainly was.
You should write ad copy for Clementines. I'm shamefaced that I walked by them today and didn't pick up any at the grocers.
At one hospital, one of the anesthesiologists would buy several crates as a gift to the staff, and we would stuff ourselves with them instead of the various sweets on offer.
You missed one joy, though... twisting the peel into a flame, watching the sparks.
Lisa, I would write for Clementines for free - or payment in kind. The mind boggles at the thought of an endless supply of them!
Zhoen, when we used to light fires in the fireplace, we'd save our citrus peels to burn in the flames. Loved the scent and the blue flames shooting from the peels.
Never tried the sparking trick, but will now.
When I was young there was little fruit available in the stores once autumn came. Apples were great but it was at Christmas that the tangerines arrived from far away and they were a treasure. You described my joy in finding and eating Clementines quite perfectly.
I like to think they go to it consenting...
Oh yes, and meant to add, satsumas are a peculiarly British preference, their skins are looser and come away without protest, just too easy really.
Try drying and keeping bits of the skin for scenting the air or flavouring dishes. I can't remember which Chinese author referred to a tin which contained some tangerine skin kept by her mother for that purpose. I have followed suite, and can vouch for its value.
Oooooh. Sexy. I'm going to have some.
what a great haptic piece of writing! you bring me right into the feel of the experience.
and i love the name... clementine.
thanks for this lovely post.
nne, for some reason this year's batch of clementines have been especially sweet. I hope yours were, too. Weather conditions in Spain must have been perfect for fruit production in 2010.
Harlequin, part of what I like most is peeling the clementines, the release of scented oil into the air. I'm glad you enjoyed the post; thank you.
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