I still haven't gotten used to the idea that the supposedly seedless tangerines my mother bought for New Year contain seeds. It makes for a rather anticlimactic end to an otherwise enjoyable process. Once I've gone through the trouble of peeling the fruit with my fingertips and half-separating the sections out onto a plate and then carrying it over to my favorite chair with a book, I do not want to be surprised. The one I ate just now had fifteen seeds in it - fifteen , I tell you, fifteen seeds... read more
