A rarity, blood
oranges at the market.I buy several and
remember her delight when she found them again decades after leaving her home
in the Sicilian hills.The mottled red
orange skin, the reddish flesh, juicy and sweet.
I add goat
cheese to my cart and remember her stories about buying cheese and milk from
the goat boy every morning.
I remember her
dark eyes and warm smile and her deft way with a cooking spoon.
I arrange the
red orange segments, spiraling them on a plate, toss a few cubes of goat cheese
here and there, squeeze on some of the red juice, sprinkle with olive oil, salt
and a generous shake of freshly ground black pepper.