If it’s late winter in Southern California, there will be blood : oranges, that is. We inherited a blood orange tree in our yard when we bought our house; we wondered why we would want one. Now, it’s probably our favorite citrus. Its color stuns, so vividly red, and its taste isn’t too far from orange, but both a bit wilder and sweeter. Plus, it subs in cocktail recipes, so that margarita becomes a “bloody-rita,” that greyhound a “bloodhound,” that sidecar a “wreck.” Its juice, with judicious butter, Grand Marnier, shallot, and thyme, cooks down to a gorgeous glaze for pork chops. And sliced, they’re just plain beautiful.


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