I am passionate about tangerines. If you think about it, they are close to being a perfect gift from nature. Only the banana comes close to matching the ideal natural package of this tangy citrus fruit.

Do you think that Madison Avenue could improve upon the loose, easy-to-peel " zipper" skin? I've had cellaphane bags that were harder to open. Anyway... I slightly digress. I prefer the distinctive, slightly tart flavor of the tangerine to its more common and readily accepted cousin, the orange.

I'm just guessing here, but I believe the name "tangerine" comes from the fruit's source: Tangiers, Algeria. It was probably a gift to some Sultan, brought back along the Silk Road from China when the world of Islam was civilized and Europe had yet to emerge from the "Dark Ages."

I have a distinct set of criteria by which I judge the perfection of a tangerine. (1) It must peel easily. I can't be bothered with those lesser varieties that require the chip-and-peck approach to get to their juicy pulp. Surely you've had one of these tangerines and been left with a wet, sticky mess in your hands - not to mention a dozen tiny little pieces of peel scattered about your kitchen. I'm talking punch-and-peel. One small effort and the whole outer shell should come tumbling down, like the Walls of Jericho at the first sound of the Israelites' trumpets.

(2) There must not be too much stringy pulp. You know, that paper-like membrane which incapsulates each individual section. The sections of a perfect tangerine must divide as easily as the peel unravels, and there must be a small ratio of pulp to succulent fruit.

(3) There must not be any seeds. I know this is the natural, God-given purpose of the tangerine; to reproduce. It does go against nature somewhat to forgo the seeds, but they have been raising seedless fruit for some time with little controversy. Seedless watermelon; seedless grapes. How they do it, I'm not quite sure -- but I do prefer not having to weed out the hard little capsules of genetic protein with my tongue, and spitting them out can just be plain rude.

(4) The tangerine must neither be too sour or too sweet. This is a subjective area here; each person has their own threshold of tart and tangy overload. It is rather like the Supreme Court Justice who once attempted to define obscenity: I can't really describe the perfect tangerine, but I know it when I taste it.

(5) this may be the least of all the criteria, but yes. Size does matter. Even with a minimum of effort (perfect peel-away qualities and little or no pulp), I want a fair payload. Some tangerines offer the most diminutive of sections -- to the point of almost being cute. I have devoured whole tangerines of this size without even bothering to divide them first. They can be delicious, but ideally, it is better to peel and eat a tangerine of consequence, one with hearty portions of mouth-watering flavor.

Why did I share this on Xomba? I'm not quite sure. Still, I intuitively sense that there are many others who also appreciate the small and simple things in life. If I get the chance, I am always happy to share a perfect tangerine with someone who would passionately appreciate it.