Oranges and Lemons, Say the Bells of St. Clements


Raphaelle Peale (American artist, 1774-1825) Orange And A BookOranges and Lemons,

Ring ye bells at St. Clements.
When will you pay me,
Ring ye Bells at ye Old Bailey.
When I am Rich,
Ring ye Bells at Fleetditch.
     Tradtional Counting Rhyme 

There are any number of interpretations as to what this all means, but I see it mostly a reminder that poetry does not necessarily have to make sense.

Joanna here, talking about Regency oranges.

Those of us with a keen interest in botany will have noticed that oranges — not to mention lemons — don't thrive in the British climate.  Well, maybe down in south Devon where hopeful souls sometimes plant palm trees.  But citrus isn't plucked off the tree on Hampstead Heath or in the Welsh mountains.

What is an orange doing in an old, old counting rhyme?
Not to mention lemons.
How come?

Because the Regency and Georgian folks imported their oranges (and lemons) enthusiastically or grew them enthusiastically in greenhouses.  

Musee carnavalet orangerie exterior Paris 1

orangerie

I'll just wander off track for a minute to point out that greenhouse in the Regency didn't mean a building all made of glass with a roof of glass panes.  That's Victorian.  In the Regency a greenhouse was a tall room with high windows, like this to the right.

Sometimes, they called them orangeries.
Coincidence?
I think not.

In the Regency we're talking about three different species of oranges, just because life is complicated.

Our first guest orange  . . . the bitter one.

The oraOrangeBloss_wbnge is another of those marvelous botanical productions of the Orient, like lychees and tea and peaches.  They've been cultivated in China for four thousand years, in several varieties. The bitter or sour orange, Citrus aurantium— what we'd call a Seville orange — made a complicated journey overland to Europe, piggybacking its way from the Middle East to Italy and Spain with the returning Crusaders.

Here's a picture of an early orange in Van Eyck's Amolfini Portrait of 1434.  This picture records a
Van_Eyck_-_Arnolfini_Portrait full sizemarriage and it's just bristling with nifty references faithfulness and fertility. 

Van_Eyck_-_Arnolfini_Portrait detailSee those those oranges in the Van Eyck painting, over next to the window?  Symbolic as heck.

Oranges were symbolic of marriage, maybe because the plant bears its flowers and its fully ripened fruit at the same time, thus being both the potential fertility of the innocent flower and the fecundity of the plump fruit. 
Queen Victoria wore orange blossoms in her hair at her wedding.  Maybe some of the folks reading this today wore them too.  You can look at that Van Eyck and know the symbol is more than 500 years old.

As a totally unrelated side comment, Isobel Carr points out that the little dog in that picture might just be the earliest depiction of a pet animal in a European painting. 
Its name is Max.
. . . Okay.  I'm kidding about the name.

They called the bitter orange a 'Seville orange' because that's where they were grown and shipped from in Tudor times and beyond. 
Our English, French and other European folks used skin, juice, root, leaf and branch in
medicine and for making cordials and syrups and orange-water for scent
and flavoring.

"Nor can I blame you, if a drop you take,
of orange-water, for perfuming-sake."
   
John Breval

Seville oranges nowadays are used about exclusively for making that wonderful marmalade you can still pick up in the grocery if you go searching a while for the authentic stuff.  It's the same marmalade they made in Regency times.  When you spread it on your toast, you can think about Elizabeth Bennet doing pretty much the same, except she's sitting across the breatkfast table from Mr. Darcy.

Looking next at . . . 
. . .  Ahem. 
Eyes off Mr. Darcy, if you please.  Thank you.

Turning to this second type of orange, I hear you saying, "What about the sweet orange, Citrus sinensis, my supermarket orange, the ones that the lack of is like a day without sunshine, the ones Nell Gywn sold at Drury Lane?"

I will pause an instant to offer Samuel Pepys' take on orange juice:
"and here, which I never did before, I drank a glass, of a pint, I believe, at one draught, of the juice of oranges, of whose peel they make comfits; and here they drink the juice as wine, with sugar, and it is very fine drink; but, it being new, I was doubtful whether it might not do me hurt. "

Anyhow, these newcomer sweet oranges showed up in the 1500s.  They were called sweet oranges because, well, they were sweet, and China oranges to distinguish them from the Seville oranges which were not so sweet.  'China' because, unlike their bitter cousins, they didn't migrate slowly overland.  They arrived in style by ship, brought by Portuguese and Italian merchants directly from China. 

This is when the orange became a hand-eating f3 Francis Wheatley (English artist, 1747-1801) Cries of London 1792-1795 Sweet China Oranges, Sweet Chinaruit, sold in baskets on the street.  Nell Gywn, before she became mistress of King Charles II and presumably went out of the retail fruit business, was one of the scantily clad young women who sold sweet oranges in the Drury Lane Theatre (sixpence apiece,) for the refreshment of the patrons and as a handy means of expressing dissatisfaction with the performance.

In case you were wondering — as who has not — whether the orange fruit was named after the color,

("Oh look! There's a whole bunch of oranges up in the tree, and some reds over on this tree and look at all those blues down here on the bushes.")

or the color was named after the fruit.  I can set your mind at rest.
The color is named after the fruit.
The word orange meandered into English from the Sanskrit word for the fruit —nāranja — through Arabic, Old Provencal, Old French and Middle English.

Before the Fourteenth Century, folks had to refer to the color as geoluhread.  As in, "Wow. Love your geoluhread i-pod!"  Geoluhread would roughly translate as yellow-red and I am sure we are all grateful to Sanskrit for its intervention into what would have been a dismal shade with a long name.

How common were oranges in Georgian and Regency England?  How expensive? 
In the mid-1700s oranges sold on the street four a penny when hot cross buns were 'one a penny, two a penny'.  That doesn't seem outrageously expensive, does it — two oranges for the price of a bun? 
 

Zurbaran 1633 still life

lemons and oranges in 1633

Karl Phillip Moritz, about that time, wrote, "All over London as one walks, one everywhere, in the
season, sees oranges to sell, and they are in general sold tolerably cheap, one and even sometimes two for a halfpenny."

By 1828, one could speak of "The China, or sweet oranges, with which this country is now so amply supplied, and at such moderate prices that all classes of society enjoy them as perfectly as if they had been indigenous to the climate."  John S. Skinne

 

Francisco_de_zurbaran about 1630

a really annoyed cup, above

And our third orange? 

It was almost the blood orange.  I mean, there the blood orange was, in Italy, as a
mutation among sweet oranges in the 1600s.  Really no reason it couldn't have been a trade item.
I'd love to add it to the Regency table.

But it looks like they weren't imported.  Mention is made of blood orange trees brought into England as greenhouse curiosities in the 1820s. I suppose some intrepid traveller might have brought back a box of fruit for friends any time. 

Must have been a shock when that first blood orange was cut open at the table for everyone to see.

But the third of the Regency orange trio turns out to be the mandarin orange, the tangerine, our friend Citrus reticulata, which is technically a kind of orange rather than a separate fruit altogether, if we listen to those tricky botanists who dabble in such matters.  Trees were brought to England direct from China — the word mandarin is a dead giveaway — in about 1805. It settled into the greenhouses of England.  Not a fruit for the street crowd.  An exotic treat.  As late as 1817, a botanist could say it was a pity none of the countries exporting citrus to England had established the tangerine as a crop. 

After 1805, your Regency heroine might be offered a mandarin, sensuously peeled, by someone who owns a very fancy greenhouse.  A spiffy little factoid.


Seville orange leMoynCOME buy my fine oranges, sauce for your veal,

And charming when squeez'd in a pot of brown ale;
Well roasted, with sugar and wine in a cup,
They'll make a sweet bishop when gentlefolks sup.

 

The world would be a poorer place without oranges — and I happen to notice I've got a half-eaten clementine beside me as I write this post.

What's your favorite oranges recipe?  I used lemons to make a fancy syllabub not so very long ago, but I bet it'd be equally good with oranges.  And I love me some orange cake.  Also Benedictine-just-abour-anything.

One lucky commenter gets to pick a copy of any of my books.

210 thoughts on “Oranges and Lemons, Say the Bells of St. Clements”

  1. There is a fantastic, albeit fiddley, recipe that appears in several Georgian cookbooks, usually called Orange Loaves.
    Essentially you have to cut the top off of your oranges and eviscerate them then carefully scrape the pith away leaving the zest whole. Then boil these shells in sugar syrup to candy them, once csndied leave to dry. Then fill, usually with a custard but an orange curd made with the middles or jelly works too. Eat.

    Reply
  2. There is a fantastic, albeit fiddley, recipe that appears in several Georgian cookbooks, usually called Orange Loaves.
    Essentially you have to cut the top off of your oranges and eviscerate them then carefully scrape the pith away leaving the zest whole. Then boil these shells in sugar syrup to candy them, once csndied leave to dry. Then fill, usually with a custard but an orange curd made with the middles or jelly works too. Eat.

    Reply
  3. There is a fantastic, albeit fiddley, recipe that appears in several Georgian cookbooks, usually called Orange Loaves.
    Essentially you have to cut the top off of your oranges and eviscerate them then carefully scrape the pith away leaving the zest whole. Then boil these shells in sugar syrup to candy them, once csndied leave to dry. Then fill, usually with a custard but an orange curd made with the middles or jelly works too. Eat.

    Reply
  4. There is a fantastic, albeit fiddley, recipe that appears in several Georgian cookbooks, usually called Orange Loaves.
    Essentially you have to cut the top off of your oranges and eviscerate them then carefully scrape the pith away leaving the zest whole. Then boil these shells in sugar syrup to candy them, once csndied leave to dry. Then fill, usually with a custard but an orange curd made with the middles or jelly works too. Eat.

    Reply
  5. There is a fantastic, albeit fiddley, recipe that appears in several Georgian cookbooks, usually called Orange Loaves.
    Essentially you have to cut the top off of your oranges and eviscerate them then carefully scrape the pith away leaving the zest whole. Then boil these shells in sugar syrup to candy them, once csndied leave to dry. Then fill, usually with a custard but an orange curd made with the middles or jelly works too. Eat.

    Reply
  6. Oh dear. I just had a horrible thought. After years of serving cut up oranges to my children and their team mates during half time of soccer games, I realized I might have been a modern day Nell Gwyn. At least I wasn’t scantily dressed.

    Reply
  7. Oh dear. I just had a horrible thought. After years of serving cut up oranges to my children and their team mates during half time of soccer games, I realized I might have been a modern day Nell Gwyn. At least I wasn’t scantily dressed.

    Reply
  8. Oh dear. I just had a horrible thought. After years of serving cut up oranges to my children and their team mates during half time of soccer games, I realized I might have been a modern day Nell Gwyn. At least I wasn’t scantily dressed.

    Reply
  9. Oh dear. I just had a horrible thought. After years of serving cut up oranges to my children and their team mates during half time of soccer games, I realized I might have been a modern day Nell Gwyn. At least I wasn’t scantily dressed.

    Reply
  10. Oh dear. I just had a horrible thought. After years of serving cut up oranges to my children and their team mates during half time of soccer games, I realized I might have been a modern day Nell Gwyn. At least I wasn’t scantily dressed.

    Reply
  11. I think my favorite recipe for oranges actually has them in service to another fruit, cranberries. To make cranberry-orange relish you just grind an orange and a bag of cranberries in a blender or food processor and add sugar. Yum!

    Reply
  12. I think my favorite recipe for oranges actually has them in service to another fruit, cranberries. To make cranberry-orange relish you just grind an orange and a bag of cranberries in a blender or food processor and add sugar. Yum!

    Reply
  13. I think my favorite recipe for oranges actually has them in service to another fruit, cranberries. To make cranberry-orange relish you just grind an orange and a bag of cranberries in a blender or food processor and add sugar. Yum!

    Reply
  14. I think my favorite recipe for oranges actually has them in service to another fruit, cranberries. To make cranberry-orange relish you just grind an orange and a bag of cranberries in a blender or food processor and add sugar. Yum!

    Reply
  15. I think my favorite recipe for oranges actually has them in service to another fruit, cranberries. To make cranberry-orange relish you just grind an orange and a bag of cranberries in a blender or food processor and add sugar. Yum!

    Reply
  16. WE used to make ambrosia of orange pieces, cocnut, and pineapple some times with miniature marshmallows thrown in and then would candy the orange peels. Grapefruit and orange peels make great candied treats. My stepmother would make up a batch along with gingerbread cookies and other treats as Christmas presents for our teachers.
    Loved the information. It is surprising that oranges should be so cheap though imported. One could have a meal of oysters and oranges for pennies– something hard to understand now. Also, such facts make comparing incomes now and then difficult.

    Reply
  17. WE used to make ambrosia of orange pieces, cocnut, and pineapple some times with miniature marshmallows thrown in and then would candy the orange peels. Grapefruit and orange peels make great candied treats. My stepmother would make up a batch along with gingerbread cookies and other treats as Christmas presents for our teachers.
    Loved the information. It is surprising that oranges should be so cheap though imported. One could have a meal of oysters and oranges for pennies– something hard to understand now. Also, such facts make comparing incomes now and then difficult.

    Reply
  18. WE used to make ambrosia of orange pieces, cocnut, and pineapple some times with miniature marshmallows thrown in and then would candy the orange peels. Grapefruit and orange peels make great candied treats. My stepmother would make up a batch along with gingerbread cookies and other treats as Christmas presents for our teachers.
    Loved the information. It is surprising that oranges should be so cheap though imported. One could have a meal of oysters and oranges for pennies– something hard to understand now. Also, such facts make comparing incomes now and then difficult.

    Reply
  19. WE used to make ambrosia of orange pieces, cocnut, and pineapple some times with miniature marshmallows thrown in and then would candy the orange peels. Grapefruit and orange peels make great candied treats. My stepmother would make up a batch along with gingerbread cookies and other treats as Christmas presents for our teachers.
    Loved the information. It is surprising that oranges should be so cheap though imported. One could have a meal of oysters and oranges for pennies– something hard to understand now. Also, such facts make comparing incomes now and then difficult.

    Reply
  20. WE used to make ambrosia of orange pieces, cocnut, and pineapple some times with miniature marshmallows thrown in and then would candy the orange peels. Grapefruit and orange peels make great candied treats. My stepmother would make up a batch along with gingerbread cookies and other treats as Christmas presents for our teachers.
    Loved the information. It is surprising that oranges should be so cheap though imported. One could have a meal of oysters and oranges for pennies– something hard to understand now. Also, such facts make comparing incomes now and then difficult.

    Reply
  21. Oranges in the Christmas stocking! When did it become traditional for an orange to appear in a child’s Christmas stocking? I’m thinking that at some point oranges and lemons had to be something of a luxury item.

    Reply
  22. Oranges in the Christmas stocking! When did it become traditional for an orange to appear in a child’s Christmas stocking? I’m thinking that at some point oranges and lemons had to be something of a luxury item.

    Reply
  23. Oranges in the Christmas stocking! When did it become traditional for an orange to appear in a child’s Christmas stocking? I’m thinking that at some point oranges and lemons had to be something of a luxury item.

    Reply
  24. Oranges in the Christmas stocking! When did it become traditional for an orange to appear in a child’s Christmas stocking? I’m thinking that at some point oranges and lemons had to be something of a luxury item.

    Reply
  25. Oranges in the Christmas stocking! When did it become traditional for an orange to appear in a child’s Christmas stocking? I’m thinking that at some point oranges and lemons had to be something of a luxury item.

    Reply
  26. Hi Shelley —
    I make an orange muffin using grated zest, (I freeze it,) and orange juice if I happen to have it handy. I think about using the chopped whole fruit and sorta get nervous, but I bet it would be good. I’ll have to try it when I’m feeling adventurous, as one does from time to time.
    I’d like use an old, old recipe.

    Reply
  27. Hi Shelley —
    I make an orange muffin using grated zest, (I freeze it,) and orange juice if I happen to have it handy. I think about using the chopped whole fruit and sorta get nervous, but I bet it would be good. I’ll have to try it when I’m feeling adventurous, as one does from time to time.
    I’d like use an old, old recipe.

    Reply
  28. Hi Shelley —
    I make an orange muffin using grated zest, (I freeze it,) and orange juice if I happen to have it handy. I think about using the chopped whole fruit and sorta get nervous, but I bet it would be good. I’ll have to try it when I’m feeling adventurous, as one does from time to time.
    I’d like use an old, old recipe.

    Reply
  29. Hi Shelley —
    I make an orange muffin using grated zest, (I freeze it,) and orange juice if I happen to have it handy. I think about using the chopped whole fruit and sorta get nervous, but I bet it would be good. I’ll have to try it when I’m feeling adventurous, as one does from time to time.
    I’d like use an old, old recipe.

    Reply
  30. Hi Shelley —
    I make an orange muffin using grated zest, (I freeze it,) and orange juice if I happen to have it handy. I think about using the chopped whole fruit and sorta get nervous, but I bet it would be good. I’ll have to try it when I’m feeling adventurous, as one does from time to time.
    I’d like use an old, old recipe.

    Reply
  31. Hi Nancy —
    You have said a mouthful when you talk about the difficulty of comparing incomes, then and now. Or comparing incomes in various parts of the world today. The simple value of money is never the whole story.
    Oysters were somewhat the food of the poor. Cheap, made into soup, they fed many an apprentice who doubtless felt put upon.
    Samuel Johnson’s cat, immortalized as a statue, has his helping of oysters at his side. Few of us feed even our favorite cats fresh oysters today.

    Reply
  32. Hi Nancy —
    You have said a mouthful when you talk about the difficulty of comparing incomes, then and now. Or comparing incomes in various parts of the world today. The simple value of money is never the whole story.
    Oysters were somewhat the food of the poor. Cheap, made into soup, they fed many an apprentice who doubtless felt put upon.
    Samuel Johnson’s cat, immortalized as a statue, has his helping of oysters at his side. Few of us feed even our favorite cats fresh oysters today.

    Reply
  33. Hi Nancy —
    You have said a mouthful when you talk about the difficulty of comparing incomes, then and now. Or comparing incomes in various parts of the world today. The simple value of money is never the whole story.
    Oysters were somewhat the food of the poor. Cheap, made into soup, they fed many an apprentice who doubtless felt put upon.
    Samuel Johnson’s cat, immortalized as a statue, has his helping of oysters at his side. Few of us feed even our favorite cats fresh oysters today.

    Reply
  34. Hi Nancy —
    You have said a mouthful when you talk about the difficulty of comparing incomes, then and now. Or comparing incomes in various parts of the world today. The simple value of money is never the whole story.
    Oysters were somewhat the food of the poor. Cheap, made into soup, they fed many an apprentice who doubtless felt put upon.
    Samuel Johnson’s cat, immortalized as a statue, has his helping of oysters at his side. Few of us feed even our favorite cats fresh oysters today.

    Reply
  35. Hi Nancy —
    You have said a mouthful when you talk about the difficulty of comparing incomes, then and now. Or comparing incomes in various parts of the world today. The simple value of money is never the whole story.
    Oysters were somewhat the food of the poor. Cheap, made into soup, they fed many an apprentice who doubtless felt put upon.
    Samuel Johnson’s cat, immortalized as a statue, has his helping of oysters at his side. Few of us feed even our favorite cats fresh oysters today.

    Reply
  36. Hi Lil —
    The orange in the toe of the Christmas stock was something I wondered about as I was writing this. I asked myself exactly what you did. I’d always been told the orange was added because it was a ‘special treat’.
    One thought is the orange was available on the streets and not dreadfully expensive, but for many folks it was still a ‘treat’ — in the same way ice lollies bought off the truck are a special treat.
    Your 1802 kidlet in working class London might get an orange or a hot-cross bun when the family went for a stroll on Sunday.
    My second thought, (I have three,) is the Christmas orange might be the first orange of the season. Just as the earliest strawberries or cherries were special, the orange might be special for that reason.
    We forget, I think, how fresh fruits might be available for a month or two — three months for oranges, I should think — and then folks had to wait till the next year.
    Final thought on this is, oranges would have been rare in Europe during WWII. Maybe that kinda reinforced the traditional idea of ‘specialness’ in the modern mind.

    Reply
  37. Hi Lil —
    The orange in the toe of the Christmas stock was something I wondered about as I was writing this. I asked myself exactly what you did. I’d always been told the orange was added because it was a ‘special treat’.
    One thought is the orange was available on the streets and not dreadfully expensive, but for many folks it was still a ‘treat’ — in the same way ice lollies bought off the truck are a special treat.
    Your 1802 kidlet in working class London might get an orange or a hot-cross bun when the family went for a stroll on Sunday.
    My second thought, (I have three,) is the Christmas orange might be the first orange of the season. Just as the earliest strawberries or cherries were special, the orange might be special for that reason.
    We forget, I think, how fresh fruits might be available for a month or two — three months for oranges, I should think — and then folks had to wait till the next year.
    Final thought on this is, oranges would have been rare in Europe during WWII. Maybe that kinda reinforced the traditional idea of ‘specialness’ in the modern mind.

    Reply
  38. Hi Lil —
    The orange in the toe of the Christmas stock was something I wondered about as I was writing this. I asked myself exactly what you did. I’d always been told the orange was added because it was a ‘special treat’.
    One thought is the orange was available on the streets and not dreadfully expensive, but for many folks it was still a ‘treat’ — in the same way ice lollies bought off the truck are a special treat.
    Your 1802 kidlet in working class London might get an orange or a hot-cross bun when the family went for a stroll on Sunday.
    My second thought, (I have three,) is the Christmas orange might be the first orange of the season. Just as the earliest strawberries or cherries were special, the orange might be special for that reason.
    We forget, I think, how fresh fruits might be available for a month or two — three months for oranges, I should think — and then folks had to wait till the next year.
    Final thought on this is, oranges would have been rare in Europe during WWII. Maybe that kinda reinforced the traditional idea of ‘specialness’ in the modern mind.

    Reply
  39. Hi Lil —
    The orange in the toe of the Christmas stock was something I wondered about as I was writing this. I asked myself exactly what you did. I’d always been told the orange was added because it was a ‘special treat’.
    One thought is the orange was available on the streets and not dreadfully expensive, but for many folks it was still a ‘treat’ — in the same way ice lollies bought off the truck are a special treat.
    Your 1802 kidlet in working class London might get an orange or a hot-cross bun when the family went for a stroll on Sunday.
    My second thought, (I have three,) is the Christmas orange might be the first orange of the season. Just as the earliest strawberries or cherries were special, the orange might be special for that reason.
    We forget, I think, how fresh fruits might be available for a month or two — three months for oranges, I should think — and then folks had to wait till the next year.
    Final thought on this is, oranges would have been rare in Europe during WWII. Maybe that kinda reinforced the traditional idea of ‘specialness’ in the modern mind.

    Reply
  40. Hi Lil —
    The orange in the toe of the Christmas stock was something I wondered about as I was writing this. I asked myself exactly what you did. I’d always been told the orange was added because it was a ‘special treat’.
    One thought is the orange was available on the streets and not dreadfully expensive, but for many folks it was still a ‘treat’ — in the same way ice lollies bought off the truck are a special treat.
    Your 1802 kidlet in working class London might get an orange or a hot-cross bun when the family went for a stroll on Sunday.
    My second thought, (I have three,) is the Christmas orange might be the first orange of the season. Just as the earliest strawberries or cherries were special, the orange might be special for that reason.
    We forget, I think, how fresh fruits might be available for a month or two — three months for oranges, I should think — and then folks had to wait till the next year.
    Final thought on this is, oranges would have been rare in Europe during WWII. Maybe that kinda reinforced the traditional idea of ‘specialness’ in the modern mind.

    Reply
  41. Brilliant research, Jo! I adore fresh orange juice and we’ve been enjoying freshly squeezed Valencias all summer. I also live on Naranja, presumably because everyone grows orange trees along here. Or did, before the diseases got them.

    Reply
  42. Brilliant research, Jo! I adore fresh orange juice and we’ve been enjoying freshly squeezed Valencias all summer. I also live on Naranja, presumably because everyone grows orange trees along here. Or did, before the diseases got them.

    Reply
  43. Brilliant research, Jo! I adore fresh orange juice and we’ve been enjoying freshly squeezed Valencias all summer. I also live on Naranja, presumably because everyone grows orange trees along here. Or did, before the diseases got them.

    Reply
  44. Brilliant research, Jo! I adore fresh orange juice and we’ve been enjoying freshly squeezed Valencias all summer. I also live on Naranja, presumably because everyone grows orange trees along here. Or did, before the diseases got them.

    Reply
  45. Brilliant research, Jo! I adore fresh orange juice and we’ve been enjoying freshly squeezed Valencias all summer. I also live on Naranja, presumably because everyone grows orange trees along here. Or did, before the diseases got them.

    Reply
  46. Hi Ella —
    I am a great fan of clementines.
    The name dates to France, to 1902, according to some sources, and honors a Father Clément, who developed this variety from other mandarin orange/tangerine types.

    Reply
  47. Hi Ella —
    I am a great fan of clementines.
    The name dates to France, to 1902, according to some sources, and honors a Father Clément, who developed this variety from other mandarin orange/tangerine types.

    Reply
  48. Hi Ella —
    I am a great fan of clementines.
    The name dates to France, to 1902, according to some sources, and honors a Father Clément, who developed this variety from other mandarin orange/tangerine types.

    Reply
  49. Hi Ella —
    I am a great fan of clementines.
    The name dates to France, to 1902, according to some sources, and honors a Father Clément, who developed this variety from other mandarin orange/tangerine types.

    Reply
  50. Hi Ella —
    I am a great fan of clementines.
    The name dates to France, to 1902, according to some sources, and honors a Father Clément, who developed this variety from other mandarin orange/tangerine types.

    Reply
  51. My favorite Orangey recipe doesn’t actually use oranges ! It is a boozy dessert a bit like a syllabub made with marmalade and Drambuie a whisky liquer and cream.it does have lemon juice which probably could be orange juice to make it more orangey !We always had a tangerine at the toe of the stocking .You tended to only get tangerines around Christmas in the days before they started flying things in from all points of the compass .

    Reply
  52. My favorite Orangey recipe doesn’t actually use oranges ! It is a boozy dessert a bit like a syllabub made with marmalade and Drambuie a whisky liquer and cream.it does have lemon juice which probably could be orange juice to make it more orangey !We always had a tangerine at the toe of the stocking .You tended to only get tangerines around Christmas in the days before they started flying things in from all points of the compass .

    Reply
  53. My favorite Orangey recipe doesn’t actually use oranges ! It is a boozy dessert a bit like a syllabub made with marmalade and Drambuie a whisky liquer and cream.it does have lemon juice which probably could be orange juice to make it more orangey !We always had a tangerine at the toe of the stocking .You tended to only get tangerines around Christmas in the days before they started flying things in from all points of the compass .

    Reply
  54. My favorite Orangey recipe doesn’t actually use oranges ! It is a boozy dessert a bit like a syllabub made with marmalade and Drambuie a whisky liquer and cream.it does have lemon juice which probably could be orange juice to make it more orangey !We always had a tangerine at the toe of the stocking .You tended to only get tangerines around Christmas in the days before they started flying things in from all points of the compass .

    Reply
  55. My favorite Orangey recipe doesn’t actually use oranges ! It is a boozy dessert a bit like a syllabub made with marmalade and Drambuie a whisky liquer and cream.it does have lemon juice which probably could be orange juice to make it more orangey !We always had a tangerine at the toe of the stocking .You tended to only get tangerines around Christmas in the days before they started flying things in from all points of the compass .

    Reply
  56. I don’t like either marmalade or orange-flavored anything (and when I lived in California, did not share everybody’s love of Orange Julius) but I do love oranges and lemons as themselves or in tea. My grandparents had a small orange grove outside of Tampa so I have eaten many an orange or lemon straight off the tree (the best!). Usually these days I eat tangerines, especially the Minneola if I can get it, as they are easy to peel when I’m at work and the right size for a serving.
    The main reason I’m commenting, however, is the “lemons and oranges in 1633” picture. I have only to look up to see that picture on the wall above my computer. I have had the print for more than 10 years and I still love to look at it.

    Reply
  57. I don’t like either marmalade or orange-flavored anything (and when I lived in California, did not share everybody’s love of Orange Julius) but I do love oranges and lemons as themselves or in tea. My grandparents had a small orange grove outside of Tampa so I have eaten many an orange or lemon straight off the tree (the best!). Usually these days I eat tangerines, especially the Minneola if I can get it, as they are easy to peel when I’m at work and the right size for a serving.
    The main reason I’m commenting, however, is the “lemons and oranges in 1633” picture. I have only to look up to see that picture on the wall above my computer. I have had the print for more than 10 years and I still love to look at it.

    Reply
  58. I don’t like either marmalade or orange-flavored anything (and when I lived in California, did not share everybody’s love of Orange Julius) but I do love oranges and lemons as themselves or in tea. My grandparents had a small orange grove outside of Tampa so I have eaten many an orange or lemon straight off the tree (the best!). Usually these days I eat tangerines, especially the Minneola if I can get it, as they are easy to peel when I’m at work and the right size for a serving.
    The main reason I’m commenting, however, is the “lemons and oranges in 1633” picture. I have only to look up to see that picture on the wall above my computer. I have had the print for more than 10 years and I still love to look at it.

    Reply
  59. I don’t like either marmalade or orange-flavored anything (and when I lived in California, did not share everybody’s love of Orange Julius) but I do love oranges and lemons as themselves or in tea. My grandparents had a small orange grove outside of Tampa so I have eaten many an orange or lemon straight off the tree (the best!). Usually these days I eat tangerines, especially the Minneola if I can get it, as they are easy to peel when I’m at work and the right size for a serving.
    The main reason I’m commenting, however, is the “lemons and oranges in 1633” picture. I have only to look up to see that picture on the wall above my computer. I have had the print for more than 10 years and I still love to look at it.

    Reply
  60. I don’t like either marmalade or orange-flavored anything (and when I lived in California, did not share everybody’s love of Orange Julius) but I do love oranges and lemons as themselves or in tea. My grandparents had a small orange grove outside of Tampa so I have eaten many an orange or lemon straight off the tree (the best!). Usually these days I eat tangerines, especially the Minneola if I can get it, as they are easy to peel when I’m at work and the right size for a serving.
    The main reason I’m commenting, however, is the “lemons and oranges in 1633” picture. I have only to look up to see that picture on the wall above my computer. I have had the print for more than 10 years and I still love to look at it.

    Reply
  61. I make a cake using whole boiled oranges and almond meal. It’s yummy, and excellent for gluten intolerant people.
    Jo, a food processor is a wonderful thing. Makes so many cooking jobs a whiz. *g*

    Reply
  62. I make a cake using whole boiled oranges and almond meal. It’s yummy, and excellent for gluten intolerant people.
    Jo, a food processor is a wonderful thing. Makes so many cooking jobs a whiz. *g*

    Reply
  63. I make a cake using whole boiled oranges and almond meal. It’s yummy, and excellent for gluten intolerant people.
    Jo, a food processor is a wonderful thing. Makes so many cooking jobs a whiz. *g*

    Reply
  64. I make a cake using whole boiled oranges and almond meal. It’s yummy, and excellent for gluten intolerant people.
    Jo, a food processor is a wonderful thing. Makes so many cooking jobs a whiz. *g*

    Reply
  65. I make a cake using whole boiled oranges and almond meal. It’s yummy, and excellent for gluten intolerant people.
    Jo, a food processor is a wonderful thing. Makes so many cooking jobs a whiz. *g*

    Reply
  66. I’ve never cooked much with oranges, they are so good just fresh. However I do make a lemon cake that uses both the juice and the zest, and I’ve made some Middle Eastern desserts using orange flower water, which is wonderful, heady smelling stuff.

    Reply
  67. I’ve never cooked much with oranges, they are so good just fresh. However I do make a lemon cake that uses both the juice and the zest, and I’ve made some Middle Eastern desserts using orange flower water, which is wonderful, heady smelling stuff.

    Reply
  68. I’ve never cooked much with oranges, they are so good just fresh. However I do make a lemon cake that uses both the juice and the zest, and I’ve made some Middle Eastern desserts using orange flower water, which is wonderful, heady smelling stuff.

    Reply
  69. I’ve never cooked much with oranges, they are so good just fresh. However I do make a lemon cake that uses both the juice and the zest, and I’ve made some Middle Eastern desserts using orange flower water, which is wonderful, heady smelling stuff.

    Reply
  70. I’ve never cooked much with oranges, they are so good just fresh. However I do make a lemon cake that uses both the juice and the zest, and I’ve made some Middle Eastern desserts using orange flower water, which is wonderful, heady smelling stuff.

    Reply
  71. Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements,
    You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martins,
    When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey,
    When I get rich, say the bells of Shoreditch,
    When will that be, say the bells of Stepney,
    I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
    (From memory…)

    Reply
  72. Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements,
    You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martins,
    When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey,
    When I get rich, say the bells of Shoreditch,
    When will that be, say the bells of Stepney,
    I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
    (From memory…)

    Reply
  73. Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements,
    You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martins,
    When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey,
    When I get rich, say the bells of Shoreditch,
    When will that be, say the bells of Stepney,
    I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
    (From memory…)

    Reply
  74. Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements,
    You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martins,
    When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey,
    When I get rich, say the bells of Shoreditch,
    When will that be, say the bells of Stepney,
    I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
    (From memory…)

    Reply
  75. Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of St Clements,
    You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St Martins,
    When will you pay me, say the bells of Old Bailey,
    When I get rich, say the bells of Shoreditch,
    When will that be, say the bells of Stepney,
    I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.
    (From memory…)

    Reply
  76. Hi Dixie Lee —
    A surprising number of folks know the old rhyme. I wonder if they still play the game in kindergartens and preschools?
    The poem, though not the game, is old. First recorded in the mid 1700s. Plausibly dating from the 1600s. Possibly earlier.
    The ending verses about ‘here comes a chopper to chop off your head’, alas, are a Victorian addition. Our Regency and Georgian folks would never have heard them.

    Reply
  77. Hi Dixie Lee —
    A surprising number of folks know the old rhyme. I wonder if they still play the game in kindergartens and preschools?
    The poem, though not the game, is old. First recorded in the mid 1700s. Plausibly dating from the 1600s. Possibly earlier.
    The ending verses about ‘here comes a chopper to chop off your head’, alas, are a Victorian addition. Our Regency and Georgian folks would never have heard them.

    Reply
  78. Hi Dixie Lee —
    A surprising number of folks know the old rhyme. I wonder if they still play the game in kindergartens and preschools?
    The poem, though not the game, is old. First recorded in the mid 1700s. Plausibly dating from the 1600s. Possibly earlier.
    The ending verses about ‘here comes a chopper to chop off your head’, alas, are a Victorian addition. Our Regency and Georgian folks would never have heard them.

    Reply
  79. Hi Dixie Lee —
    A surprising number of folks know the old rhyme. I wonder if they still play the game in kindergartens and preschools?
    The poem, though not the game, is old. First recorded in the mid 1700s. Plausibly dating from the 1600s. Possibly earlier.
    The ending verses about ‘here comes a chopper to chop off your head’, alas, are a Victorian addition. Our Regency and Georgian folks would never have heard them.

    Reply
  80. Hi Dixie Lee —
    A surprising number of folks know the old rhyme. I wonder if they still play the game in kindergartens and preschools?
    The poem, though not the game, is old. First recorded in the mid 1700s. Plausibly dating from the 1600s. Possibly earlier.
    The ending verses about ‘here comes a chopper to chop off your head’, alas, are a Victorian addition. Our Regency and Georgian folks would never have heard them.

    Reply
  81. Hi Karin —
    I make a lemon cake that has lemon in the cake, and then one pours a lemon-juice/sugar mixture over it and let it sink in. Heavenly!
    I use rose water in exactly one thing — gulab jamun — so I don’t tend to keep it about. Orange water and lemon water are very old. They have Georgian recipes everywhere. Some make it from the oranges. Some from the orange flowers.
    Apparently they use orange flower water to flavor madeleines.

    Reply
  82. Hi Karin —
    I make a lemon cake that has lemon in the cake, and then one pours a lemon-juice/sugar mixture over it and let it sink in. Heavenly!
    I use rose water in exactly one thing — gulab jamun — so I don’t tend to keep it about. Orange water and lemon water are very old. They have Georgian recipes everywhere. Some make it from the oranges. Some from the orange flowers.
    Apparently they use orange flower water to flavor madeleines.

    Reply
  83. Hi Karin —
    I make a lemon cake that has lemon in the cake, and then one pours a lemon-juice/sugar mixture over it and let it sink in. Heavenly!
    I use rose water in exactly one thing — gulab jamun — so I don’t tend to keep it about. Orange water and lemon water are very old. They have Georgian recipes everywhere. Some make it from the oranges. Some from the orange flowers.
    Apparently they use orange flower water to flavor madeleines.

    Reply
  84. Hi Karin —
    I make a lemon cake that has lemon in the cake, and then one pours a lemon-juice/sugar mixture over it and let it sink in. Heavenly!
    I use rose water in exactly one thing — gulab jamun — so I don’t tend to keep it about. Orange water and lemon water are very old. They have Georgian recipes everywhere. Some make it from the oranges. Some from the orange flowers.
    Apparently they use orange flower water to flavor madeleines.

    Reply
  85. Hi Karin —
    I make a lemon cake that has lemon in the cake, and then one pours a lemon-juice/sugar mixture over it and let it sink in. Heavenly!
    I use rose water in exactly one thing — gulab jamun — so I don’t tend to keep it about. Orange water and lemon water are very old. They have Georgian recipes everywhere. Some make it from the oranges. Some from the orange flowers.
    Apparently they use orange flower water to flavor madeleines.

    Reply
  86. I’m pretty much in the fresh fruit category in that I don’t cook with fruit. But I do have a pretty good uncooked lemon souffle recipe.
    My favorite use of all three elements of the bitter orange tree is in perfume – bergamot (the rind), petitgrain (the leaf) and neroli (the flower). They also have healing properties in aromatherapy.
    Eagerly counting down until October!

    Reply
  87. I’m pretty much in the fresh fruit category in that I don’t cook with fruit. But I do have a pretty good uncooked lemon souffle recipe.
    My favorite use of all three elements of the bitter orange tree is in perfume – bergamot (the rind), petitgrain (the leaf) and neroli (the flower). They also have healing properties in aromatherapy.
    Eagerly counting down until October!

    Reply
  88. I’m pretty much in the fresh fruit category in that I don’t cook with fruit. But I do have a pretty good uncooked lemon souffle recipe.
    My favorite use of all three elements of the bitter orange tree is in perfume – bergamot (the rind), petitgrain (the leaf) and neroli (the flower). They also have healing properties in aromatherapy.
    Eagerly counting down until October!

    Reply
  89. I’m pretty much in the fresh fruit category in that I don’t cook with fruit. But I do have a pretty good uncooked lemon souffle recipe.
    My favorite use of all three elements of the bitter orange tree is in perfume – bergamot (the rind), petitgrain (the leaf) and neroli (the flower). They also have healing properties in aromatherapy.
    Eagerly counting down until October!

    Reply
  90. I’m pretty much in the fresh fruit category in that I don’t cook with fruit. But I do have a pretty good uncooked lemon souffle recipe.
    My favorite use of all three elements of the bitter orange tree is in perfume – bergamot (the rind), petitgrain (the leaf) and neroli (the flower). They also have healing properties in aromatherapy.
    Eagerly counting down until October!

    Reply
  91. Hi Donna —
    I had one of my characters — Maggie in Forbidden Rose — use a perfumed oil of neroli in her bath oils. It is so very appropriately Georgian and Regency. A nice scent, too. I didn’t know it was made with bitter oranges.
    Bergamot, of course, we know from Earl Grey tea. Also didn’t know that was bitter orange.
    Pettigrain I’d never heard of and I will add it to my store of knowledge and keep an eye out for it. Thank you.
    *cough* I gotta tell you — publication of Rogue Spy has been put off from October 2013 into 2014 some time. Not the publisher’s fault. It’s all my own. I missed my deadline. (Bad Joanna!)

    Reply
  92. Hi Donna —
    I had one of my characters — Maggie in Forbidden Rose — use a perfumed oil of neroli in her bath oils. It is so very appropriately Georgian and Regency. A nice scent, too. I didn’t know it was made with bitter oranges.
    Bergamot, of course, we know from Earl Grey tea. Also didn’t know that was bitter orange.
    Pettigrain I’d never heard of and I will add it to my store of knowledge and keep an eye out for it. Thank you.
    *cough* I gotta tell you — publication of Rogue Spy has been put off from October 2013 into 2014 some time. Not the publisher’s fault. It’s all my own. I missed my deadline. (Bad Joanna!)

    Reply
  93. Hi Donna —
    I had one of my characters — Maggie in Forbidden Rose — use a perfumed oil of neroli in her bath oils. It is so very appropriately Georgian and Regency. A nice scent, too. I didn’t know it was made with bitter oranges.
    Bergamot, of course, we know from Earl Grey tea. Also didn’t know that was bitter orange.
    Pettigrain I’d never heard of and I will add it to my store of knowledge and keep an eye out for it. Thank you.
    *cough* I gotta tell you — publication of Rogue Spy has been put off from October 2013 into 2014 some time. Not the publisher’s fault. It’s all my own. I missed my deadline. (Bad Joanna!)

    Reply
  94. Hi Donna —
    I had one of my characters — Maggie in Forbidden Rose — use a perfumed oil of neroli in her bath oils. It is so very appropriately Georgian and Regency. A nice scent, too. I didn’t know it was made with bitter oranges.
    Bergamot, of course, we know from Earl Grey tea. Also didn’t know that was bitter orange.
    Pettigrain I’d never heard of and I will add it to my store of knowledge and keep an eye out for it. Thank you.
    *cough* I gotta tell you — publication of Rogue Spy has been put off from October 2013 into 2014 some time. Not the publisher’s fault. It’s all my own. I missed my deadline. (Bad Joanna!)

    Reply
  95. Hi Donna —
    I had one of my characters — Maggie in Forbidden Rose — use a perfumed oil of neroli in her bath oils. It is so very appropriately Georgian and Regency. A nice scent, too. I didn’t know it was made with bitter oranges.
    Bergamot, of course, we know from Earl Grey tea. Also didn’t know that was bitter orange.
    Pettigrain I’d never heard of and I will add it to my store of knowledge and keep an eye out for it. Thank you.
    *cough* I gotta tell you — publication of Rogue Spy has been put off from October 2013 into 2014 some time. Not the publisher’s fault. It’s all my own. I missed my deadline. (Bad Joanna!)

    Reply
  96. Hi Larisa —
    There are a couple ‘orange and nut’ tortes folks mentioned and they all sound wonderful. It’s a natural combination, I guess.
    And it ‘feels’ period. Makes me think of Viennese cafes and a little table with delicate china cups and thin slices of a perfect pastry. Elegantly dressed women with little dogs sitting beside them …
    But I digress.

    Reply
  97. Hi Larisa —
    There are a couple ‘orange and nut’ tortes folks mentioned and they all sound wonderful. It’s a natural combination, I guess.
    And it ‘feels’ period. Makes me think of Viennese cafes and a little table with delicate china cups and thin slices of a perfect pastry. Elegantly dressed women with little dogs sitting beside them …
    But I digress.

    Reply
  98. Hi Larisa —
    There are a couple ‘orange and nut’ tortes folks mentioned and they all sound wonderful. It’s a natural combination, I guess.
    And it ‘feels’ period. Makes me think of Viennese cafes and a little table with delicate china cups and thin slices of a perfect pastry. Elegantly dressed women with little dogs sitting beside them …
    But I digress.

    Reply
  99. Hi Larisa —
    There are a couple ‘orange and nut’ tortes folks mentioned and they all sound wonderful. It’s a natural combination, I guess.
    And it ‘feels’ period. Makes me think of Viennese cafes and a little table with delicate china cups and thin slices of a perfect pastry. Elegantly dressed women with little dogs sitting beside them …
    But I digress.

    Reply
  100. Hi Larisa —
    There are a couple ‘orange and nut’ tortes folks mentioned and they all sound wonderful. It’s a natural combination, I guess.
    And it ‘feels’ period. Makes me think of Viennese cafes and a little table with delicate china cups and thin slices of a perfect pastry. Elegantly dressed women with little dogs sitting beside them …
    But I digress.

    Reply
  101. Oh Joanne! I am devastated! But I understand, really, those books are brilliant. I recently discovered Nita Abrams and warmed up for your new one with her spy series.
    Keep watching this space, right?
    Oils from the sweet orange tree are simply orange (rind) and orange blossom (the flower). I don’t think there’s an oil from the leaves. Petitgrain is similar to neroli, not as sweet.

    Reply
  102. Oh Joanne! I am devastated! But I understand, really, those books are brilliant. I recently discovered Nita Abrams and warmed up for your new one with her spy series.
    Keep watching this space, right?
    Oils from the sweet orange tree are simply orange (rind) and orange blossom (the flower). I don’t think there’s an oil from the leaves. Petitgrain is similar to neroli, not as sweet.

    Reply
  103. Oh Joanne! I am devastated! But I understand, really, those books are brilliant. I recently discovered Nita Abrams and warmed up for your new one with her spy series.
    Keep watching this space, right?
    Oils from the sweet orange tree are simply orange (rind) and orange blossom (the flower). I don’t think there’s an oil from the leaves. Petitgrain is similar to neroli, not as sweet.

    Reply
  104. Oh Joanne! I am devastated! But I understand, really, those books are brilliant. I recently discovered Nita Abrams and warmed up for your new one with her spy series.
    Keep watching this space, right?
    Oils from the sweet orange tree are simply orange (rind) and orange blossom (the flower). I don’t think there’s an oil from the leaves. Petitgrain is similar to neroli, not as sweet.

    Reply
  105. Oh Joanne! I am devastated! But I understand, really, those books are brilliant. I recently discovered Nita Abrams and warmed up for your new one with her spy series.
    Keep watching this space, right?
    Oils from the sweet orange tree are simply orange (rind) and orange blossom (the flower). I don’t think there’s an oil from the leaves. Petitgrain is similar to neroli, not as sweet.

    Reply
  106. We used to make a holiday side-dish with oranges, fresh cranberries, and walnuts ground up in the blender, a little sugar, and folded into orange Jell-O. With the diminishment of our family, it got set aside. Then I discovered Ina Garten’s Cranberry Conserve! I modified it by adding dried cranberries instead of raisins, and eliminating the nuts because I share it, and so many people are allergic to nuts. I even froze a bag of berries to make a batch at Easter with the ham.

    Reply
  107. We used to make a holiday side-dish with oranges, fresh cranberries, and walnuts ground up in the blender, a little sugar, and folded into orange Jell-O. With the diminishment of our family, it got set aside. Then I discovered Ina Garten’s Cranberry Conserve! I modified it by adding dried cranberries instead of raisins, and eliminating the nuts because I share it, and so many people are allergic to nuts. I even froze a bag of berries to make a batch at Easter with the ham.

    Reply
  108. We used to make a holiday side-dish with oranges, fresh cranberries, and walnuts ground up in the blender, a little sugar, and folded into orange Jell-O. With the diminishment of our family, it got set aside. Then I discovered Ina Garten’s Cranberry Conserve! I modified it by adding dried cranberries instead of raisins, and eliminating the nuts because I share it, and so many people are allergic to nuts. I even froze a bag of berries to make a batch at Easter with the ham.

    Reply
  109. We used to make a holiday side-dish with oranges, fresh cranberries, and walnuts ground up in the blender, a little sugar, and folded into orange Jell-O. With the diminishment of our family, it got set aside. Then I discovered Ina Garten’s Cranberry Conserve! I modified it by adding dried cranberries instead of raisins, and eliminating the nuts because I share it, and so many people are allergic to nuts. I even froze a bag of berries to make a batch at Easter with the ham.

    Reply
  110. We used to make a holiday side-dish with oranges, fresh cranberries, and walnuts ground up in the blender, a little sugar, and folded into orange Jell-O. With the diminishment of our family, it got set aside. Then I discovered Ina Garten’s Cranberry Conserve! I modified it by adding dried cranberries instead of raisins, and eliminating the nuts because I share it, and so many people are allergic to nuts. I even froze a bag of berries to make a batch at Easter with the ham.

    Reply
  111. Hi Donna —
    I love perfumes. I don’t wear them, you understand. But I do enjoy walking into a department store and stopping to sniff everything.
    And I love scented soaps.
    I like these older, simple, herbal-types. Lavendar, lemon, orange, sandalwood, vetiver …

    Reply
  112. Hi Donna —
    I love perfumes. I don’t wear them, you understand. But I do enjoy walking into a department store and stopping to sniff everything.
    And I love scented soaps.
    I like these older, simple, herbal-types. Lavendar, lemon, orange, sandalwood, vetiver …

    Reply
  113. Hi Donna —
    I love perfumes. I don’t wear them, you understand. But I do enjoy walking into a department store and stopping to sniff everything.
    And I love scented soaps.
    I like these older, simple, herbal-types. Lavendar, lemon, orange, sandalwood, vetiver …

    Reply
  114. Hi Donna —
    I love perfumes. I don’t wear them, you understand. But I do enjoy walking into a department store and stopping to sniff everything.
    And I love scented soaps.
    I like these older, simple, herbal-types. Lavendar, lemon, orange, sandalwood, vetiver …

    Reply
  115. Hi Donna —
    I love perfumes. I don’t wear them, you understand. But I do enjoy walking into a department store and stopping to sniff everything.
    And I love scented soaps.
    I like these older, simple, herbal-types. Lavendar, lemon, orange, sandalwood, vetiver …

    Reply
  116. Hi Artemisia —
    Now you’ve made me wonder if Georgian and regency folks in England ever ate cranberry jelly.
    I find the cranberry cultivated in England and I find it imported from the US. I find references to ‘cranberry sauce’ as an American food. I find ‘cranberry tarts in an American 1805 cookbook. But I don’t find any references to making cranberry sauce or jelly.

    Reply
  117. Hi Artemisia —
    Now you’ve made me wonder if Georgian and regency folks in England ever ate cranberry jelly.
    I find the cranberry cultivated in England and I find it imported from the US. I find references to ‘cranberry sauce’ as an American food. I find ‘cranberry tarts in an American 1805 cookbook. But I don’t find any references to making cranberry sauce or jelly.

    Reply
  118. Hi Artemisia —
    Now you’ve made me wonder if Georgian and regency folks in England ever ate cranberry jelly.
    I find the cranberry cultivated in England and I find it imported from the US. I find references to ‘cranberry sauce’ as an American food. I find ‘cranberry tarts in an American 1805 cookbook. But I don’t find any references to making cranberry sauce or jelly.

    Reply
  119. Hi Artemisia —
    Now you’ve made me wonder if Georgian and regency folks in England ever ate cranberry jelly.
    I find the cranberry cultivated in England and I find it imported from the US. I find references to ‘cranberry sauce’ as an American food. I find ‘cranberry tarts in an American 1805 cookbook. But I don’t find any references to making cranberry sauce or jelly.

    Reply
  120. Hi Artemisia —
    Now you’ve made me wonder if Georgian and regency folks in England ever ate cranberry jelly.
    I find the cranberry cultivated in England and I find it imported from the US. I find references to ‘cranberry sauce’ as an American food. I find ‘cranberry tarts in an American 1805 cookbook. But I don’t find any references to making cranberry sauce or jelly.

    Reply
  121. Larisa, I so want to make that Queen of the Night Torte-just for the name alone!
    Donna, I had to Google bergamot, because I only knew it as an flowering herb(aka bee balm) which I grow in my garden. I didn’t realize there was also a bergamot orange.

    Reply
  122. Larisa, I so want to make that Queen of the Night Torte-just for the name alone!
    Donna, I had to Google bergamot, because I only knew it as an flowering herb(aka bee balm) which I grow in my garden. I didn’t realize there was also a bergamot orange.

    Reply
  123. Larisa, I so want to make that Queen of the Night Torte-just for the name alone!
    Donna, I had to Google bergamot, because I only knew it as an flowering herb(aka bee balm) which I grow in my garden. I didn’t realize there was also a bergamot orange.

    Reply
  124. Larisa, I so want to make that Queen of the Night Torte-just for the name alone!
    Donna, I had to Google bergamot, because I only knew it as an flowering herb(aka bee balm) which I grow in my garden. I didn’t realize there was also a bergamot orange.

    Reply
  125. Larisa, I so want to make that Queen of the Night Torte-just for the name alone!
    Donna, I had to Google bergamot, because I only knew it as an flowering herb(aka bee balm) which I grow in my garden. I didn’t realize there was also a bergamot orange.

    Reply
  126. Hi Emily —
    Leesee …
    I knew it in Kindergarten, I’m sure. Probably before.
    There’s a game that goes with the poem where everybody passes between two people with upraised arms. They catch the last one to go through when the rhyme ends.

    Reply
  127. Hi Emily —
    Leesee …
    I knew it in Kindergarten, I’m sure. Probably before.
    There’s a game that goes with the poem where everybody passes between two people with upraised arms. They catch the last one to go through when the rhyme ends.

    Reply
  128. Hi Emily —
    Leesee …
    I knew it in Kindergarten, I’m sure. Probably before.
    There’s a game that goes with the poem where everybody passes between two people with upraised arms. They catch the last one to go through when the rhyme ends.

    Reply
  129. Hi Emily —
    Leesee …
    I knew it in Kindergarten, I’m sure. Probably before.
    There’s a game that goes with the poem where everybody passes between two people with upraised arms. They catch the last one to go through when the rhyme ends.

    Reply
  130. Hi Emily —
    Leesee …
    I knew it in Kindergarten, I’m sure. Probably before.
    There’s a game that goes with the poem where everybody passes between two people with upraised arms. They catch the last one to go through when the rhyme ends.

    Reply

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