As a child I was raised in a place that sat nestled between orange groves and the Sierra Nevada Mountains. In the spring time, the scent of orange blossoms almost over whelmed you. In the winter-you had so much citrus you just didn't even know what to do with it all and even dairy cows were eating oranges.
Groves went on and on for miles and miles. When driving along the highway I would stare at the rows of trees and imagine they were all trains on different tracks; bound for exotic locales.
In a place where it is sunny almost year round-I guess one kind of takes citrus for granted. I had no idea that these little jewels were like tiny pieces of sunshine sent to darker places around the globe.
I am all for eating local-I think it's great to do whenever you can. But let me tell you, after six grey winters in Oregon- citrus of all kinds is a bright mainstay around our place. They are happy reminders of home.
I love finding the strangest kinds that I can. I am currently on the hunt for one of these guys. Their perfume is just marvelous.