So-real!
November 15, 2004
Christmas is coming. It’s time to dry orange peels.
When I think about the Christmases of my childhood, I don’t recall the stockings I received, the trees I decorated, the gifts I gave, or the carols I sang. When I think about the Christmases of my childhood, something that immediately comes to mind is sorrel, a West Indian beverage brewed from the leaves of a plant in the Hibiscus family. My mother would make sorrel in two different batches, every year in December, and only in December. One batch, spiked with rum, was for my father. The other batch was unadulterated and left for my brother and me to fight over.