Oranges, I find, have a surprising way of showing up just when you need them most. Weeks may go by and I haven’t ventured near one and then, wham, the need for a citrus hit becomes like a quest for the holy grail, body and mind united in a singular mission to get me some.
Most times I don’t even know i’m looking for oranges. Their warm, glowing, health-giving, uplifting essence just sort of appears from nowhere. A beacon of necessity. A must-have part of the tapestry of life.
Often the orange thing starts with a particularly sunset-hued shopping basket. I did indeed comment on this to a fellow mum, Kelly, when out shopping for last minute treats (escaping a fractious afternoon) at our local Co-op on the evening of New Year’s Eve – oranges, easy peelers, peppers, a reduced bunch of fading tulips, orange juice with bits and a mega bag of Wotsits all cozying up together like a subliminally loaded bag of hope (where I wonder retrospectively, was a similarly large bottle of Aperol?!).
This morning orange wake up call came in the form of a forgotten about bottle of body oil, courtesy of my much missed friend Jen, someone I always associated with the phrase ‘zest for life’. Ignoring the title – Cowshed’s Grumpy Cow – or perhaps attracted by these very words by the need to address a potential low with an ironic laugh, I reached over from a rare post workout shower (with decathlete Daley Thompson no less, on Virgin’s just found Get Moving channel; 7.45am if you’re wondering), opened the bottle and took a deep inhale.
Orange, definitely orange. Blended with some other variant of citrus essential oil perhaps? My aromatherapeutic antenna was piqued: Mandarin, Sweet Orange, Grapefruit or Bergamot . . . I tried to read the label but the writing was tiny and I can no longer read such blurb, or a book no less, without putting a certain amount of social distancing between me and it.
Either way, I felt instantly happy and soothed and rubbed the oil all over my dry winter arms and legs, remembering the pre-kid days when I never went a day without moisturising my body as well as my face, for far out reasons such as: may get on a plane on a random holiday tomorrow; or may find the man of my dreams later tonight.
Looking up the magic formula later – Grapefruit, Pettigrain (Bitter Orange) and Red Mandarin – and noting the name change to ‘Replenish’ (I prefer this too, although the Grumpy Cow moniker does make me miss Cowshed’s launch and long ago debauched days of Soho/Shoreditch House), I was reminded of all the lovely citrus recipes and remedies in my The Heritage Herbal book.
Published last March, on the very first week of Lockdown 1.0 (not ideal, but that’s how Covid times go), this collection of ancient herbal wisdom, modern ways to nourish, heal and style and the most beautiful illustrations by Elizabeth Blackwell from her 1737-39 masterpiece A Curious Herbal, took me over a year of meticulous research (poring over herbals from ancient times to the present day; feel so lucky and satisfied to have done this especially the Latin translations) and recipe testing in between other work and school runs.
While orange doesn’t appear as one of the 35 selected key ingredients in the book – these being a selection of the most popular or useful heritage herbs rather than any of the additional fruits or vegetables from Blackwell’s ‘500 cuts’ (500 illustrated pages) – various citrus fruits do appear in the form of complementary aromas, flavours or therapeutic additions. Also cocktails, lots of cocktails!
A Fennel and Grapefruit Bodywash; a Hyssop Ritual Bath with notes of Lemongrass and Lavender; a Sensual Candle scented with Jasmine, Cedarwood and Bergamot essential oils; a thyme-based Sore Throat Syrup that also tastes wonderful in a gin and tonic, or paired with grapefruit, vodka and lime (have tried and tested this on many, many friends back in the allowed to meet days); dried orange or lemon peel in Elderberry Rob Syrup; lemons in Elderflower Cordial; orange zest in a Saffron Negroni; the most delicious Lemon and Coriander Soup, not to mention a limey Coriander and Pineapple Sorbet; a Calendula Sunrise Soap with Calendula and Sweet Orange essential oils; and a Herb of Joy Cake combining oregano (the ‘Herb of Joy’), almond flour, oranges and lemons.
I list all these entries from the top of my head as an example of what the zesty aroma of citrus can do. It made me remember the joy of making all these things. It made me want to make them again. It made me remember to celebrate my books – my lovingly produced Heritage Herbal in particular – and share them and their content more readily. It woke me up from a lockdown-induced fug.
It’s hard during lockdowns to muster up the energy to promote as well as write books while also dealing with the kids and family life. Lockdown 1.0, for me, also ran in parallel with lots of near and far family ups and downs. I also find it hard to write short-form (I just can’t stop explaining) or long-form (my index finger hurts and as said previously, I can’t actually see the text close up) on Instagram or any other phone-produced social media platform. In short, I often find that it’s hard to blow your trumpet regularly enough to make a tune.
I can more easily share recipes here, however; that is just a copy and paste away. After I’ve eaten my bodyweight in oranges, slathered on a bit more Grumpy Cow/Replenish body oil and added a large vessel of Aperol to my online shopping basket, this is exactly what I hopefully and perhaps zestily (this might be pushing it) intend to do.