Earlier today I walked into one of our favorite lunch joints that smells absolutely amazing from the moment you get within a half mile (The Corner Store in Chatham, MA). I literally drooled when my husband suggested that we meet there. I think I could smell it from my office in Dennis. We've been going there for years and are big fans. I mean BIG fans. My step-son's picture is even on the wall because he wrote an essay about how good their burritos are when he was in 6th grade. It made the local paper and the owners gave him free burritos for a couple of years until he started to eat like a teenage boy. Did I mention that we are big fans?
I digress. So... for some reason, as soon as the spicy, smokey aromas reunited with my olfactories the words "I hope this is what Heaven smells like" crossed through my mind. It was a weird thought. I know.
As I stood inside breathing in the various scents (they have the most amazing burrito bar with all freshly-made things like today's special "Mango Chicken", homemade pico de gallo, corn salsa etc and fabulous paninis like the grilled chicken with pesto aioli, red onions, and cheddar cheese that I had today) I realized that the smells really aren't that heavenly after they linger in my nose and begin to creep into my clothing and hair.
My husband was running a little late so I had a few minutes to consider: If given a choice, what smell would I truly like to smell for all eternity? (I know. Who thinks these things in the prime of their life? I was hungry and had to distract myself from draping myself over the hot bar and dragging the magnificent smell into my lungs.) It didn't take long for my mind to wander to a scent from my life in the mid-90's in the central valley of California. The orange groves.
When the orange trees are in bloom, the scent is intoxicating for both drivers... and bees. Driving along the roads bordering the groves you are compelled to wind down the window and deeply inhale the ambrosial essence. But as much as you might want to, sticking your head out the window to enjoy the sweetness is ill-advised. Consumed with their pollinating, the bees are so singularly focused that their instinctive reaction to veer away is temporarily dampened by the luscious nectar. Inevitably they end up splattered and stuck to your windshield with their honeyed heinies. Orange-drunk drivers should take care not to follow suit.
The additional bonus of living in orange country comes on the other end of orange season - The Purchase. When you live near orange groves, there is an addiction that kicks in the moment that you see the first crates of the season loaded on trucks. An innate drive urges you to find the nearest roadside stand at the edge of a grove and buy a bag (or three) of oranges picked that morning for around a dollar a bag. Yes - that's about three dozen oranges for a three bucks! Try to match that in the grocery store! For the next few weeks, your life becomes dedicated to eating so many oranges that the canker sores are permanent (and you don't care) and finding as many ways to "put up" oranges so that in mid-winter, you might have a reminiscent moment with that delectable flavor. (At the time I lived in a cottage with no kitchen and had no way to actually "put up" the oranges... but it sounds quaint, doesn't it? If I lived there now I would definitely do it... so that has to count for something.)Random insertion of orange-scented memory... Have you ever been to Disney World? We took my step-son about four years ago - the last trip that he willingly took with us - and went on the ride "Soarin'". During the ride (which simulates being strapped into a hang-glider and "soars" in front of a huge movie screen with rolling vistas of mountains, fields, rivers, skyscrapers etc below) one of the scenes was soaring over an orange grove and those clever Disney Imagineers piped in the scent of oranges to make it more realistic! I loved it!
So after that fond trip down memory lane while bundled up in long johns, fleece, and what I've recently come to figure out is a hat that makes me look like a man, I realized that yes indeed, I could smell orange groves for the rest of my life. It is truly a heavenly aroma!
After a tasty lunch and a wonderful walk in the woods with my husband, it was time to go grocery shopping. In the store, I grabbed a bag of "California Oranges" without really looking closely. After I got home and put everything away, the oranges were calling me. I answered. As I opened the bag, I noticed that it said "California Oranges - Kings River Growers, Sanger, CA". Would you believe that my orange groves of the mid-90's that I was so fondly remembering earlier that very same day were those very groves! I lived in Sanger, CA. Amazingly enough, I had also been chatting with someone even earlier in the day who had just moved to Cape Cod from California and had mentioned Sanger (a very small town) and she knew it well.
I think it's a sign. I better have another orange to see if it helps me read it.
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