Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local
There were three different-sized jars of lemon juice in the fridge, along with a container of blended lemon pulp, a pint of lemon syrup, and a little plastic deal crammed with lemon zest. Lemon halves, looking awkward and forlorn since having been robbed of their zest and juice, were floating in my water glass, steeping in my tea, cleaning out my sink’s disposal. These spent lemons were even packed into two of their own jars, either soaking in honey-water to make lemonade or in white vinegar to make cleaning solution. I’ve got ideas for charred jalapeno honey lemon vinaigrette, lemon poppyseed crepes, cream cheese lemon spread.
At this point you might assume I’m on the American Lemon Board or something. But no, I’m just a person with a lot of lemons.
It all began at a place far, far away, at a time long, long ago. Or rather, in my kitchen a few months back. A friend asked me to bake the cakes for her daughter’s wedding, both the sheet cakes for the guests and the actual wedding cake, and they wanted lemon.
Have I ever done wedding cakes before? No. Should I have said yes? Possibly not. I will be the first to admit that while I do a decent job making food taste good, making it look good at the same time is not one of my fortes. I’m happy with knowing and staying within my limitations for the most part, content with an average level of aesthetic pleasantness for my dishes. “Good enough” isn’t, however, a good enough goal for wedding cake.
So there was some practice involved, especially since there were also some fairly constricting allergies to bake around. Needless to say, many lemons were harmed in the process — and also some mandarins and limes, since there’s a chance that for some of the trial batches I remembered the “cake” part and forgot the “lemon” part until I was already started. Awkward.
And now I throw in the Plot Twist. I’m pretty finicky about lemons. I can drink lemon things all day long (lemon in my water, lemony hot tea, Chick-Fil-A sugarfree lemonade), but eating lemon things typically has no appeal for me (lemon bars, chicken with lemons, lemony pasta salad). I know a splash of acid can hypothetically be that step that takes a dish to perfection, but I’m not convinced; often if I begrudgingly add it as per directions, I regret it, wishing I had substituted lime or vinegar or skipped it altogether.
Ironically, Brian doesn’t like many desserts, but his favorite ones are lemony.
Having been somewhat saturated in lemons recently, however, may be turning me less sour on them. I came to appreciate the way my hands smelled so bright and fresh after zesting eventual dozens of lemons, and while I still wouldn’t necessarily choose lemon as a cake flavor, it ranks above vanilla for me now. The lemon cream cheese frosting was straight up delicious, which is a double surprise, since only within the last decade have I learned to not spurn cream cheese as well.
I still doubt I’ll be making lemon meringue pie or lemon piccata chicken anytime soon (unless it’s for the meringue or the capers, both items I love), but that lemon almond coffeecake was surprisingly tasty, I wasn’t mad I added lemon juice to a dilly veggie saute, and I can sense a tahini-ginger-lemon sauce coming on.
The best thing about lemons recently, though, in addition to having managed the wedding cakes “good enough,” was making candied lemon slices as the garnish. Sour turned sweet, which is kind of how my lemon journey is going.
Candied Lemon Slices
These were kind of an afterthought as for the sheetcakes, but I’m so glad I did them. I quartered the slices and put one on each piece; they worked beautifully both as a simple yet elegant garnish and as an indicator of flavor. Candying them basically couldn’t have been easier, and their prep had neither the danger of zested knuckles or getting acidic juice into scratches on my hands. Some of the slices had gotten too thick or too thin, and I found myself consuming them as quality control as I laid them out to dry. I’ll definitely be doing them again with lemon desserts — if I happen to make any.
Prep tips: keep the resultant lemon syrup! It’s an added bonus of the recipe.
1 ½ cups sugar
1 ½ cups water
3 lemons, sliced thinly
Add sugar and water to a wide-bottomed saucepan; bring to a simmer and whisk to dissolve. Add lemon slices, gently stirring to ensure submersion, and simmer for 30-45 minutes. Remove from heat, and carefully remove slices with a tongs or fork. Arrange in a single layer on a silicone mat/parchment paper and let dry overnight. Use within a day or two.
