Lemon. Simple Luxe. Essentials.

Travel

2 Jan

I scratched the lemon rind with my fingernail and the oily, piercing fragrance stayed with me. There’s something about lemon — especially one in January when snow is falling — that takes me to luxury. I think of nineteenth century children thrilled with a single orange at the bottom of their stocking. Of citrus associated with migratory Jewish cuisine. How we take lemon for granted.

Real luxury is simple. It’s born of absence. It’s the hot tea after trudging in the snow. Or the plunge in the cold river on a day in the nineties. As Patience Gray so beautifully lays out in Honey From A Weed, the cycle of human life in agriculture necessarily features times of fasting and feasting.

There’s no pleasure in constant feasting. I often think of austerity, when things are pared back to the essence, what would you need to exist well? Not starve or freeze hopefully, but just to live well with the bare bones. Patience Gray’s Greek islanders lived in stone huts with goats, olives, and fishing. They also had community. And probably wine. A shared loaf, cheese, and salted fish marked the lean times. How welcome would be the summer of abundant seas and fruit ripening in a wave of seasonality — from wild strawberries to apricots to figs and grapes.

When life is hard and spare is when we may get the most joy out of the simple things. Conversation, warmth, lemons. And we notice how superfluous is so much of our stuff. Those simple things we might not take for granted once we realize how beautiful they are. We never know when wartime rationing or disease hitting citrus monoculture might make a lemon very rare again.

I want to make the most of my lemon.

Notice it, treat it as though it were precious. The juice goes into salad dressing. Citronette is a neglected and very fine French sauce. It’s vinaigrette with lemon instead of vinegar. Straight lemon juice is squeezed over my chestnut soup; even on an omelette. Lemon juice brightens flavors, clears fishy or eggy odors. Try it instead of more salt, as often it’s the acid balance, not the salt, that needs adjusting. The zest is incredibly healthful and can be microplaned over everything! Citrus peel flavonoids have anti-cancer properties.

Once juiced, I will pare the lemon rind and pith into strips and pack it with salt for a quick Moroccan preserve.

You don’t need the pulp, though a little juice is helpful to dissolve the salt and keep the acid high. It’s the softened, pickled rind that is most delicious wedged between steamed artichoke leaves or chopped with parsley into a couscous salad. Once salted and pressed down in a jar you’ve preserved the joy and luxury of lemon for many months to come.