My mother was an herbalist
As my knife ran through the base of the orange peel to filet the white meaty part from the skin itself, a burst of citrus oil dispersed into the air. I felt my mother’s presence. She was there in the room smiling at me. Who would have guessed, little old me would be making herbal medicine in my own kitchen.
My mother used to filet the skin of oranges like this one when she was still around, and I always hated it.