There’s a clarity about a lemon; a sense of perfection. It’s one of the few things in life, like the scent of a rose or a snowflake caressing your cheek, that are just perfect.
Brightly yellow, so tangy, so zesty, they’re the juiciest of their kin in the citrus stable. And when you bite into or take a sip of something in which the hero is lemon – a slice of lemon tart, a spoonful of lemon sorbet – you feel like you’re eating or drinking life’s very elixir.
Living in a citrus producing region of a citrus producing country means lemons colour our Eastern Cape Midlands Karoo world for much of the year. They hang on the trees for months as some ripen before others do. Almost everyone has a lemon tree, and some locals whose properties back onto the Fish River have entire orchards of them. Looking across a random garden wall into someone or other’s back werf, in late winter you see lemon trees groaning under their lemony burden, and you know there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, that eventually fall and moulder on the ground.
In the gardens of every Tuishuis in Cradock’s Market Street, lemons hang high and low on their branches, little balls of bright yellow punctuating the scenery. Every now and then I’m invited to bring a basket and fill it with lemons to take home, so they don’t go to waste. So lemons become a metaphor for friendship and kindness. I have an idea to plant a couple of trees on the verge, where school kids pass every day to and from the junior school up the road. When the trees begin bearing, they can help themselves. The invitation will be there, in the trees’ public placement. Maybe we should plant lemons and oranges all over the town, along every street, instead of hiding them behind our garden walls. Maybe we should do that in all our Karoo towns.
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It’s astonishing how long lemons do last on the tree though, and the same applies to oranges, which we have in our side garden. Lemons are picked more frequently, though, being as versatile as they are to the family cook.
Lemon cordials, essence and preserves abound, so that even out of season we can have access to their delicious zing in one form or another. They even become a part of our summers if the lemons we pick in winter are turned into lemon sorbet, ready to melt the heat away from the hottest days of January and February.
The lemon cordials that you’ll find at every Karoo farm stall and tuisnywerheid shop keep seemingly forever, and can be used to make glorious fresh lemonade with the simple addition of water. You can add more sugar if you like, though most of these cordials are super-sweet. A dash of lemon cordial in a gin or vodka based liqueur is Karoo heaven. And there are those adventurous locals all over the Karoo who make their own limoncello, that delightful Italian liqueur. Served, of course, with an artsy curl of sliced lemon for a garnish.
Lemon can be savoury or sweet with equally impressive results. It can arrest the discolouration of other cooked foods, add that extra almost undefinable zing to a million sauces and broths, it can be the hero of a dish or a bit player, even its zest alone can turn something plain of flavour into something astounding. And the flavour of the fruit’s zest is very particular; you can tell the difference in its lemony nuances if there’s a little zest as well as juice in a lemon drizzle cake. Lemon can even be used to clean the pots afterwards. And outside of a cup of tea, nothing is more refreshing than lemon.
Veal with lemon is an Italian classic, the French use them in their tarte au citron, people throughout the world have known the joys of a lemon meringue tart since childhood, and what is a fish or crustacean meal without lemon wedges to finish everything off beautifully.
Preserved lemons, which are savoury and cured in a salt solution, are used in North African cuisines and pair well with lamb, chicken and seafood. Use preserved lemon slices and green olives in a tagine dish for robust and noble flavours.
It’s customary for writers, when exploring the topic of lemons, t0 pun on the overused phrase “when life throws you lemons”, but all I’m prepared to do with that is to suggest that when that happens, ask the universe to send a few dozen more please. There can never be too many lemons in a life well lived.
A few lemon tips:
It’s much easier to zest a lemon before juicing it.
Invest in a microplane grater for zesting citrus, there just is no comparison with a common-or-garden grater.
Use a hand-held little metal zester for zesting strips or curls, which are great for garnishing a dish that has lemon in it.
Roll a lemon around quite roughly on a hard surface before slicing into it, to help the juice flow more freely.
Use a fine sieve when squeezing lemon juice into a bowl, to catch the pips.
Be clear that you know the difference between lemon zest (just the outer rind, super-thin) and the pith (the nasty white part between rind and flesh).
Lemons are even ironic. A lemon tart, if you think about it, is strangely sweet, and hardly tart at all.
