My roots and fresh-squeezed OJ

I lived in Southern California until I was eight. Since I learned to eat in a place where avocados and other magical things grow in the backyard, I am forever ruined. I have zero tolerance for bad avocados. I will not (WILL NOT) drink orange juice "from concentrate" (what the H does "from concentrate" mean anyway?). I prefer limeade to lemon. I know what sapotes (aka sapodillas), loquats, and guavas taste like. I know how to crack open a macadamia nut with a vice and I love the sound of chickens making chickeny sounds in the beams of early morning sunlight. Those are my roots.

Back in 2002 my dad gave me three little citrus trees for Christmas. These poor trees have been through a lot! They have been moved a few times. They have spent nights in freezing temps without a blanket. They are troopers, my trees.

This year, for the first time EVER, one of the trees actually produced fruit! On Sunday morning, we (in our pajamas, no less!) picked 10 oranges from our little tree and made some juice. The best orange juice ever, actually!











I peeled and quartered the oranges then placed them in the freezer for just a little while to get them really cold.







Then the boys made juice!



When we make the juice this way, it is so frothy and sweet- not acidic at all. So, so, SO good!







Perfection.

What do you crave from your childhood?