Last year while celebrating Christmas with my friend Lauren, she invited me to sample her mother’s Ambrosia. Expecting the equivalent of  fruit cocktail from a can (my apologies, mother), I was surprised to find a small bowl bearing some sort of citrus concoction.

Void of expectation, I sampled the dessert. In an instant, Unicorns pranced in unison upon my tongue, rainbows tumbled from my ears and a small band of fairies wiped the excess from my mouth. The delicious memory of that afternoon is vivid enough to make me weep.

Ambrosia is blandly defined by Oxford as ‘a dessert made of oranges and coconut’ but a prolific genius once described this tasty decadence as ‘nectar of the gods’. While I’m no believer in Greek mythology, I would agree with the comparison.

As my gift to you, in it's entirety, Royce Trotman’s Ambrosia. Be forewarned this task is not for the faint of heart.

'The only hard part about making ambrosia is cutting up all the oranges.  I just cut them in half and scoop out all the little sections with a tiny silver spoon that belonged to my husbands grandmother.  It is very thin and sharp so it scoops out the sections very well.  I will do a 4lb. bag of oranges at a time.  Then I add a 15 oz. can of crushed pineapple (in it's own juice) to the oranges.  Depending on how sweet the oranges are, I will add some sugar, usually 1/4 cup or less. If all your people like coconut, put in as much coconut as you like, otherwise serve the coconut on the side. Do this the night before you serve so the flavors can blend together.  My mother told me to always serve ambrosia in a beautiful crystal bowl.  My mother in law always had pound cake with her ambrosia and my husband liked to put his ambrosia on top of the pound cake.  I like pecan sandies with mine.'

Emphasis mine (and certainly no requirement for me to enjoy your Ambrosia, although I must insist on the crystal bowl and pound cake; the others are merely suggestions).

I shall eagerly await your invitation.