Soul food: Henrietta Lovell on winter oranges Oranges are incredibly evocative things that take me straight back to my childhood. My mum was an export manager for a lighting company and every winter she would be sent a case of Jaffa oranges from one of her clients. We kept them in the greenhouse where it was nice and cold, and they'd last for a month. We were only allowed one per day, but when Mum was feeling really generous she would send my brother, sister and me to go and get a bright orange each. We would roll them on the kitchen table until the orange oil from the skins filled the room, rolling and rolling them until the pulp inside was completely squashed. We'd be there for ages, the skin was so thick. Mum then cut a little square from the top of them with a knife, pulled out the pith, and pushed a sugar cube inside. They were already sweet, but this was a special treat. She would send us out into the garden where it was cold and sunny, a bright blue sky, and we'd suck all the juice out through the sugar cube - it would run down our faces. Then we'd break it open to eat the orange off the peel. My mum was so brilliant because she made treats out of things when she didn't have much money. Whenever I see a Jaffa orange I must eat it in the same way, as the gorgeous scent of orange oil fills the house.