by Pa Rock
I had to drive all the way across the Valley of Hell last fall in order to secure a Blood Orange tree. The one that I snagged had four oranges on it when I made the purchase. The nurseryman cut into one of them to prove it was a blood orange, but, alas, the fruit was orange - an orange orange. Not to worry, he told me. It hasn't turned yet. But he guaranteed me that the tree would indeed prove to be a blood orange - as advertised!
During the process of getting the fairly big tree out of the backseat of my convertible, two more oranges fell off of the tree. For the past two months or so, one lonesome orange has hung securely to a small branch while it ripened.
Last night I picked that solitary orange and peeled it for dessert. As the outer peeling was coming off, I was disheartened because the fruit appeared to be black inside. Oh, great. I had waited too long and it had decayed!
But no! As I peeled away the inner protective skin I found that the fruit was a beautiful, bloody red! And it tasted great!
I have found a recipe for blood orange margaritas - so when next year's crop comes in I will be busy!