I think of him every time I’m here.Every time.Every single time. There’s something about this place that brings back a flood of memories.That makes me want to cry into my soup.The first time, I sat at a table for two looking out into an oasis of palms and green and purple-magenta flowers that surrounded the swimming pool.It was something about the sauce I was eating that afternoon that brought him to the fore of my mind. The onions which he loved – his essential seasoning. I wrote a long note about how much he meant to me, how much I learnt from him.But I deleted it. Not on purpose but in error.
Supreme A sophisticated culinary term used to describe the process of removing the flesh, in sections, piece by piece of fruit from the membranes. The technique involves cutting off the skin from the outside of the fruit, placing a sharp paring knife between the membrane and fruit and cutting out the small pie shaped piece of fruit.Source: YumSugarHe favoured onions and hot chili peppers over tomatoes.Still his memory remained, pervaded my thoughts. Made me wonder what he’d think of me now. All grown-up.That passed.Six months later, I’m back. Sitting in the hotel restaurant again.This time, I’m breakfasting on bacon, croissants and baked beans.And my mind is consumed with the freshness and sweetness of oranges.
SupremeTo supreme a citrus fruit is to remove the skin, pith, membranes, and seeds, and to separate its segments. Used as a noun, a supreme can be a wedge of citrus fruit prepared in this way.Source: WikipediaFor it is orange season. They are piled high on wheelbarrows. Green and yellow. Sweet and juicy. He always got them by the sack. And juiced them. He wasn’t afraid of ‘lots’. Of many. Of abundance.Of trying.Of experimenting.Of stepping outside of ‘comfort’.Strangely I grew up thinking him invincible. Untouchable. Even by death.
Supreme(1) To remove the flesh sections of citrus fruit from the membranes(2) The wing and breast of the chicken or game bird(3) A fillet of sole or fish.Source: Linda’s Culinary Dictionary on What’s Cooking AmericaThe oranges remind me of him. They always do.They make me miss him. A lot.Something about associations. As I supreme the oranges for my punch, I think about him.About the legacy he left me.Of cooking with heart.Of not being afraid.Of baring my soul – even though he never subscribed to emotional outbursts.He had his moments.My father did.My hero. Gone before I ever got a chance to say a proper goodbye.Nothing to do with ‘supremeing‘ an orangeBut memories on a raft.Taking me to places, far far away from herePlaces of love and hope and confidence.Places I come back to.Time and time again.My gift to you today: a #phovid…yes another one, on oranges, and how to ‘supreme’ them.