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Clementines

May 15th, 2014  |  Published in Uncategorized

Fruit Spans Continents — and Generations

By Marie-Jose Daoud

About two months ago, I found myself peeling a bag of clementines and storing them in a Tupperware, to be able to nibble on them at any time of the day or night. I love clementines, and I’m a nibbler.

When I was done, on a whim, I took a picture of my work, and send it by email to my parents and two older brothers, with one comment:

“Il y a des habitudes qui se perdent pas. Fruits épluchés, anyone? :)”

Translation: “Some traditions die hard. Peeled fruits, anyone?”

clementines

The picture I sent to my family. Photo: Marie-Jose Daoud.

As far back as I can remember, my mother has always peeled fruit for us. Mainly oranges, clementines, and mandarines. But also apples, pears, peaches, mangos,..whatever fruit was in season. Every night, we gathered for dinner, and at the end of it, we had a huge plate of peeled fruit on the table. We almost never failed to finish it. Whatever we ate before, no matter how much we ate before, we always managed to eat more fruit than we would assume we would eat.

We half-heartedly joke among us that my mother’s peeled fruit is the sole reason my two brothers and myself succeeded in our studies.

Indeed, my mother answered almost immediately to my picture, saying:

“Bravo! Vitamine C garantie + (…) + réussite aux examens.”

Translation: “Bravo! Guaranteed Vitamine C + success in the finals”

My first vivid memory of this plate of fruit dates back to when I was 10 or 11.  We were living in Paris at that time, and my two brothers were studying hard for their exams. I have a memory of this big round bluish plate literally disappearing under peeled oranges and kiwis, and one of my brothers expressing his surprise when we actually managed to finish it.  One of my parents  commented then that fruit was good for us, and would make us succeed in our academic life.

Indeed, my two brothers ended up going to the equivalent of Ivy League colleges in France, and I ended up, albeit 20 years later, at Columbia University,

I find it telling that I found myself peeling fruit when I was studying (again), and  in the middle of a rough patch at the J-School.

While I was peeling my clementines and listening to music, I got to thinking how boring it was. Oh, don’t get me wrong: I welcomed the relaxation time, but going through the same process over and over of inserting my nail in the skin of the clementine, then peeling it away one stripe at a time, and doing it countless times… I was bored to death. And restless. I wondered how my mum had the patience to do it every day of her life, without faltering.

And this is when it struck me how much love there was in those damned peeled clementines.

My mother, like her mother before her, is an amazing cook. Guests talk about what she has fed them for weeks, sometimes for months. And when she cooks for us, her family, she pours so much love in her food that it keeps us in a constant state of contentment.

The peeled fruit is to me, the ultimate gesture of love. It is the proof of love the saying is about – “There is no love, there are only proofs of love”-  repeated over and over again, every day of her and our life.

Her own mother did the same before her. When I was a kid, my cousins and myself used to gather around my grandmother for our four o’clock snack.  She sat on her sofa with a plate and a good knife, and peeled countless apples and oranges, cutting them into slices, and feeding them to us. To this day, I have not encountered someone who peeled fruit as fast and efficiently as my grandmother.

I don’t cook. Or barely enough to survive.  But I can peel fruit. Last time I had friends over, I prepared breakfast for them. Without even thinking, I sat down at the table with oranges, clementines, and a good knife, and started peeling and sharing them. Granted, I was not as fast nor efficient as my mother nor grandmother, but the result was the same: I was feeding peeled fruit to people I care about.  And it felt so damn good.

What’s the expression again, an apple never falls far from the tree? In my case, it would be more of a clementine.

 

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