|Lemon submitted 2012.01.05 11:52 AM by skrapmetal viewed 2211 times|
|I have a grafted lemon and lime tree in a pot. It's like that orange tree in Waterworld, except it's a) capable of being pollinated from other citrus trees by insects because other citrus trees and insects exist, and b) not an orange tree. This year it grew a lemon. One, lonely, solitary, beautiful lemon. It was, by any measure you'd care to apply, the greatest and most astounding lemon in the history of all lemons anywhere and anywhen in any Universe in the entire continuity of spacetime. So, a couple weeks ago, at about 10am, just when it achieved the paramount of lemony goodness in flavor, juiciness, sweet/tartness, and plump yellowness, I picked it from the tree and brought it into my home. I hear you asking, "What did you do with this amazing and frankly incredible lemon?". Fear not; I'll tell you.|
First, I used an antique wooden citrus zester that was given to my great-great-great-great grandmother by the son of Christopher Columbus and which has been in my family for almost 500 years to remove the oily yellow surface of the rind of the lemon. That zest went into a bowl containing sugar and a bit of salt. Once candied, the zest was mixed with other lesser ingredients and became, after considerable toil and time, a lemon meringue pie.
I then, using a bronze knife once wielded by Alexander the Great, cut the lemon in half across the long axis, and sliced a 1/4-inch thick slice from each half near the midpoint. These slices were then bisected and placed, with all the care and forethought you'd expect, atop fresh salmon fillets with chives, dill, rosemary, butter, salt, black pepper, and Pinot Grigio from the cellars of Charles DeGaulle himself. The salmon was wrapped in aluminum foil and treated to 12 minutes of perfectly-applied heat from my admittedly awesome grill.
The remainder of the lemon was squeezed into a glass once used by Napoleon for sampling the finest brandies. The magnificent nectar was then sweetened with honey, cooled with ice from the the Ilvaandevek glacier (known for the inherent purity of it's hydrocrystalline structure), and finally married with 2 ounces of Mr. Daniel's finest charcoal-mellowed Tennessee whiskey.
I may have made up the bits about Columbus and Alexander and DeGaulle and Napoleon and the glacier, but the rest is accurate. I really do have a bronze knife in the kitchen, though. Not impressed? Try to find one yourself. I made the described dinner of salmon (and potatoes and succotash) and lemon meringue pie for myself and my wife, and it was delicious.
Users that liked this also liked...