AS a child, there was something so exciting about the mystery bumps and curves of my stuffed Christmas stocking, tinged with the anticipation of reaching in my hand and pulling out all the tightly packed treats. However, one thing never changed: at the very bottom, pressed into the toe, there was always a familiar plump little bulge: a sweet, juicy satsuma.
Nothing looks and smells more like Christmas than orange zest and spices, from delicate slices of dried orange woven into door wreaths and tree decorations to Christingles burning brightly in church. It might seem baffling that this non-native species should be such a key component of a British Christmas, but mix a bit of folklore in with some history and the picture becomes clearer.
According to one legend, the shiny clementines so many children find in their stockings on Christmas morning owe their existence to the legend of the philanthropist St Nicholas, who evolved into the modern-day Santa Claus. These orange orbs recall the gold he tossed down the chimney of a family in need, and which tumbled into the children's stockings hung there to dry.
This association between orange-skinned citrus fruits and Christmas may be up to 400 years old, from when oranges first appeared in British kitchens. Originating in the Far East, it's thought that the sweet-eating orange as opposed to the bitter Seville-didn't reach the Mediterranean until the 15th century, thriving in the warm Spanish climate for a century or so until transportation became efficient enough for the oranges, packed in straw, to reach northern Europe without perishing.
Ripening in November after a summer of sun, these cheerful-looking fruits brought a little brightness into the dark winter months. It is their seasonality that best explains their association with the festive period, as well as their rarity at the time, which meant that they tended to be saved for special occasions.
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Denne historien er fra December 13 - 20, 2023 (Double Issue)-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
