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IN PURSUIT OF THE SEVILLE ORANGE

One of the few things I really miss living away from the UK is a lovely pot of English marmalade. None of the brands I have found in the local supermarkets fit the bill so I began my search for the Seville Orange.

Living in Spain one wouldn´t think finding an orange from Seville would present any major difficulties. Therein lies a tale.

To start with no-one in Calasparra believes you are serious. “They’re sour, you won´t like those” is the average response accompanied by much nose wrinkling and expressions of disgust. I tried local vegetable shops, the market, I even rang the wholesalers but the response was unanimous: “I must be mad – no-one could possibly like those sour oranges.”

My frustration has been aggravated because a dear friend of mine in the UK can buy Seville oranges and does so every year. They are only available for a couple of months of the year but, unlike here, they are available.

I have lived in Calasparra for nearly seven years now and for the first five years I changed my breakfast habits completely to toast and olive oil. But it never quite hit the mark. Then the dear friend of all British residents, Antonio, rescued a carrier bag of “ornamental oranges” from several tons the local authority were about to dump.

“For English marmalade, darling. Such a crime throwing away all those lovely oranges!”

First of all I had never made marmalade in my life and secondly I had no idea “ornamental oranges” were the same as Seville oranges. But I had no choice: I bought a jam pan.

I made six jars of the most delicious marmalade I have every tasted last year and so this year I approached the Town Hall and gained permission to pick a sack of the oranges before the local authority workmen consigned them all to the dump. We picked them from the trees at the rear of the Plaza de la Corredera, away from the traffic fumes. As my companion stretched to pluck another orange someone enquired what he was doing.

“Stealing fruit, of course” he joked.

“Well, you won´t like those they’re sour, the passerby told him gravely.

NEXOnr Calasparra