To many an old timer who grew up here in the mountains, oranges were as much a part of Christmas tradition as holly and mistletoe, eggnog and boiled custard. Whenever they whiff the pungent smell of an orange being peeled, no matter the season, they think of Christmas. For as children in a world where the commonplace things of today were rarities, they never saw oranges except at Christmastime. And they believed that oranges could be bought only then because merchants never displayed them at any other season.
Nobody knows just when they became an inseparable part of Christmas here in the hills, but by the 1870’s the account books kept by the country storekeepers showed that oranges were bought generally. For the next forty years, except in Asheville, oranges seldom if ever showed up in the stores except Christmastime.
Back when they were a real luxury for mountain folks, families bought a dozen oranges and felt that they were well supplied. Folks scrimpted and saved, hoarding up their eggs for trade at the country store, to be able to have oranges at Christmas. To the children of that era it was not Christmas without getting an orange.
Many an old timer remembers with heartwarming nostalgia the joy of waking up on Christmas morning to find a golden ball in their stocking and to discover that Santa Claus, in a generous mood, had left an additional six or seven oranges by the fireside.
The children hung on to those left in their stockings as long as possible and shared with the whole family the other which were peeled one at a time and eaten one at a time with their mother passing the fruit around in segments.
Many an old timer, looking back to his youth, is haunted yet by the smell and taste of those oranges of his sprouting years.
Just as oranges became a part of Christmas tradition with mountain folks, so did raisins and coconuts. And like oranges, they showed up only at Christmastime. Raisins had a special appeal for children. They were unlike the packaged moist raisins carried in the stores nowadays. They came in big wooden boxes. They were dried on the stem and were bought by the bunch. They too found their way into many a child’s Christmas stocking and they created almost as much excitement as an orange.
During this same era, coconuts found their way into the mountains through enterprising drummers who induced storekeepers to hand a few at Christmastime. As they caught on fast and became a vital part of Christmas. Out of them came the coconut cakes as a Christmas tradition in most mountain households. Opening coconuts was a real adventure back then. First the soft eyes were punched out in order to drain off the richly flavored milk, which proposed the problem when there was more than one child in the family and not enough coconuts to produce more than a sip for each. Then there was the business of crack the hull and extracting the crust of meat. The best way was to saw open the nut, thus retaining the lower half of the shell which made an excellent bowl for a dipper or for storing soft soap. Once the meat was extracted, long hours went into grating it over coarse homemade graters into bits and slivers that eventually found their way into a thick coconut cake.
Coconuts still show up at Christmastime in the stores and many a mountain woman turns to them for her cake making. Like oranges and raisins, they have become commonplace nowadays. Yet to many an old timer, all three are a part of Christmas tradition in the mountains.