Meyer Lemons & Rangpur Limes

I really lucked out this year. Even though I swore I wouldn't do citrus, it nonetheless found it's way to me. It's good to have friends in citrusy places is all I can say. One of the really special things I got this year was a shipment of rangpur limes from Shae, at Hitchhiking to Heaven. She talks about them here, and has a few recipes up, like this gorgeous looking Rangpur Lime Jam. I also got a bunch of Meyer lemons through some charitable folks I'll call enablers. This is what I made with all that goodness.

Meyer Lemons:


I made lemon Curd using this amazing new (to me, at least) technique that is brilliant. This recipe is from Elinor Klivans from Fine Cooking, and what's different about it is that you blend the ingredients first, and then heat them up. Please check it out. It was the most perfect lemon curd I've ever made. And the easiest.

I also made this gorgeous Tartine Bakery's Lemon Cream that Sara from Three Clever Sisters told me about. Food52's Kristen Miglore goes into the details of this delightful, velvety yet light as air cream. It was so much fun to make, and I really thought I messed it up until the end. I never really believe things are going to emulsify, you know? But then they do! I ate it just like pudding, and I think that's just fine (salute to Kristen). (Not lemons or limes, but pure genius, make sure you check out this chocolate mousse that Miglore discusses!)

I was all gung ho to make a Meyer lemon syrup and can it. Well, let me tell you that the subtle sunny notes that makes a Meyer a Meyer does not want to be contained in a syrup that sits on the shelf. Or at least that's how I felt. It was my technique of heating the juice that ruined it's delicate bouquet. Use the rangpur lime syrup recipe below, and I can assure you a better product. Just stick it in the fridge, stick it in the fridge. You'll drink it pretty fast anyways. To be fair, this still makes a fine lemonade base. Next time I'll just stick with the regular kinds of lemons.

[For those interested: take two cups sugar and two cups water, bring to a boil and make sure the sugar is dissolved. Add two cups of fresh lemon juice, bring back to a boil. Ladle into sterlized jars and process for ten minutes in a boiling water bath.]

I love this link I found 100 things to do with a meyer lemon by Amy Scattergood from the LA Times. Number 83 was discussed a bit. So, when I started looking into that, I wondered what about a whole lemon, not just the peels. Which made me start researching this Japanese treat called simply "honey lemon slices." Seems like a popular manga character really likes them. I never really found out what they were, but I sliced a Meyer lemon and a few rangpur limes and tucked them neatly in their separate half-pint jars. Then I covered them with nice local honey. They've been in the fridge for a while steeping. I'm not quite sure what to do with them, honestly, but I am guessing in a week or two the slices will sink nicely in a drink, and the honey will do nicely with some seltzer.

That wormhole led me to make this very strange pickled lemon recipe. I am not sure I like it, but it might just work in a margarita. What doesn't? It's sort of like preserved lemon, so I guess it can't be that bad, right? I'm not in love with it. Yet. Please note: I made a super small batch of this. This recipe is for an army's worth of pickled lemon. I'm not sure who needs that. But I could be wrong.

Rangpur Limes:

The antithesis to my Meyer lime syrup. I made a rangpur lime syrup, and I never want to live without it again. But I will, sadly. I made a simple syrup with 1 cup of sugar and 1 cup of water, that I brought to a simmer to make sure the sugar was dissolved. Then, once it cooled a touch, I added one cup of rangpur lime juice. Did I mention that rangpur limes are heaven with gin? Oops. Maybe I said that already. Have you tried Tanqueray Rangpur? I haven't. (Hint, hint, Tanqueray publicity!)

Well, I can't wait all day for Tanqueray's people to send me a bottle, so I made my own. It's more of a liqueur, similar to a calamondin gin that I made. I can't get enough of that stuff! I quartered about 8 rangpur limes, enough to fill a quart jar, added a cup of sugar, and filled to the top with gin (I used Gordon's). It will sit for a month, agitated every day, until it becomes my drink of choice. I know it's going to be off the hook. Until then I'm having No. 3 Gin with a shot of rangpur syrup, topped with seltzer. Heaven!

You have to make Hungry Tigress' North Indian Lime Pickle. I've never had them with regular limes, so I don't know how that tastes. I'm sure amazing. So, with Rangpur limes, think double triple billion amazing. I am a total wimp, so I followed her directions for not adding cayenne, and upping the sugar. Yeah, I know, I'm lame, but believe me these pickles are still awesome. This is the kind of pickle that is beguiling. One that makes your mouth pucker, salivary glands wake up even when they are behind you, and you can't even see them. That's where they are right now, and I just got up to smell them. Ahhhh.

Autumn Makes and Does made this pretty little rangpur lime marmalade, and when I made it, it came out perfectly. It's a gorgeous marmalade in petite ratio, and her recipe totally made me feel okay about making it. I didn't want a huge batch. I ended up with three quarter pints, and one fridge container. Treasure!

Really? Rangpur lime shooters? I didn't make them, but wasn't sure whether this was totally right or totally wrong. But truth be told, I would not turn one down!

I'm adding these two treats to the list for the next time the rangpur lime fairy strikes:

Rangpur Lime Curd Bars from Apt. 2B Baking Co.

Anonymous Citrus (or, most probably Rangpur Lime) and Chile Pâté de Fruit from Tug's Girl

Meyer Lemon Marmalade Shortbread

Sunny day via Meyer lemon marmalade shortbread.

You know, I really meant to start the new year off by not posting so many sweet baked goods, but it's winter and there's just no way around it. Add to that the meat curing that will be going on here this year, and this will make a very unbalanced blog indeed. I assure you that I do eat some brown rice and vegetables from time to time.

I got bit by the citrus bug a little later than last year's obsession. I think it just clamped down on me last week. Last week I made candied citrus peels, blood orange-clementine-quince marmalade, and I haven't even used up last year's Meyer lemon marmalade. These Meyer lemons were sent to me from Shae from Hitchhiking to Heaven. She makes the best Meyer lemon marmalade I've ever had, and her recipe is in her eBook. I made a big batch and still had a huge pint left that I never canned in the fridge. So, I have been experimenting. And this has been the best experiment so far. And the easiest.

I can eat way too many of these.

 Meyer Lemon Marmalade Shortbread

1 1/2 sticks of butter
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar
1/4 cup of sugar
1/4 teaspoon of salt

1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour

1/4 cup of Meyer lemon marmalade (or any other marmalade would work)

Process first four ingredients until creamed in food. Add  flour and pulse so dough comes together a bit; it will still be grainy. Dump it out into a square un-greased pan (8x8), pat it into the pan and smooth it out, then prick with a fork. Bake for about thirty minutes at 300 degrees. At this point the edges should be just starting to get golden, and the top should be firm. Gently smooth the marmalade on the surface. Return the pan to the oven and bake for ten more minutes. Let cool in pan. You could dust it with powdered sugar, but I liked the sunny yellow color. We have enough snow here!

What the reality is. Still tasty, but a little colder.

Fig Jam with Fennel and Vanilla

Here in the Hudson Valley there are figs growing, but you have to really search them out. These local figs are usually in someone's backyard, attended to with care and dedication by a person who knows just how amazing a fresh fig can be. They usually have to be covered with burlap, or a rug, or newspapers over the long, cold winter. I'm planning on having my own tree one day, but at the moment I have to rely on other devoted fig lovers who might share the bounty. I was looking, but I didn't really expect to find figs this year. It was sort of a little joke I had with myself, that I'd look into someone's yard and see a fig tree. Amazingly, they popped up right under my nose! My local farm market/orchard had some for sale, organic, of course, right off of an aunt's tree. I only found out because I saw a lone price tag for them, but they were all gone.

"Some woman bought them all this morning!" the owner, Peter, said.

"Great," I said, "I'll be that next woman to buy all your figs." I left my number so that when they came in, I would take them all.

Once I came home with the bucket, I ate about ten of them. They were transformational. The perfect size, a fig filled your mouth, soft with some resistance, honeyed and sweet, with a lightly acidic finish. Man, they were good. Peter had asked me what I would do with them. I said I would make jam. He and his father seemed skeptical. "We only eat them fresh off the tree," they said. The older man seemed to think I was nuts to add sugar to these perfect fruits. Maybe they're right, I mused, as I ate my sixth or seventh fig.

But with a bucket of figs, what is one going to do? Eat them all on the spot, and possibly get sick, like a friend of mine once did at his mother's house in France? He had to be admitted to the hospital. (The skin of a fig has a latex-like milky substance in it that some people have allergic reactions to. Especially if you eat a bucket-full.)

I do believe that figs turn into something else when made into jam, and that their delicate, transformative flavor gets lost when cooked. But then you've got to eat that bucket-full pretty dang quick! Here's the jam I made with the bulk of my figs. The rest I ate fresh, out of hand, as they say.

Fig Jam with Fennel and Vanilla

I love figs with fennel and vanilla (see this recipe from last year using dried figs). I used a whole teaspoon in my original recipe, which I thought ended up being too much. I've reduced the amount to 1/2 teaspoon. There is apple pectin stock in here which you can exchange for water. I used it to up the body of the jam. Water is just fine, though you will have a slightly softer set.

2 pounds of fresh figs

1 tablespoon of lemon juice

3 cups of sugar

1/2 teaspoon of fennel seeds

1 vanilla pod (mine was from my homemade vanilla extract)

1/2 cup apple pectin stock

lemon zest

Stem the figs and halve them. If they are large, quarter them. Put them in a pan with the rest of the ingredients and bring them to a boil. Let the mixture boil for about fifteen minutes, or when you think it has set to your liking. This will be a soft, or runny, jam, so don't expect it to set fully. Ladle it into hot jars and process for ten minutes.

Book Giveaway: Food Heroes by Georgia Pellegrini

Last year, I began a quest for local quinces. They had to be out there. I was sure of it. I asked a local expert for leads, knowing that he owned some trees. "There's one out on Libertyville Road," he said, cryptically. No dice. I did some internet searching. It didn't yield local quinces, but it did garner me a proper jar of local quince butter.

In my internet search, I happened upon Georgia Pellegrini's blog, in particular, a post about her family's quince trees. I commented giddily on her post, and an exchange ensued, first in words and then in preserves. She offered me a jar of her family's quince butter, and I sent her a jar of my earl grey tea jelly. Since then, I've kept tuned in to what she's up to.

Cooking is at the top of the list, as is hunting, foraging, and all the other correspondent good things. In the end, I didn't find my local quinces, but I found something better. A like-minded soul. And one who has found many other like-minded souls in her quest for the tradition and ritual inherent in great food, and the beautiful stories that come with finding passionate people who keep these foods alive.

Food Heroes: 16 Culinary Artisans Preserving Tradition, by Georgia Pellegrini, is a book that profiles sixteen such individuals. One of the best things about this food book is that it's about people. People who care deeply about the food they are preserving, whether it's olive oil, or beer, or butter, or figs. And Georgia seems to, in turn, care deeply about these people.

Not only is this a topic worth your time, but it's a great read, too. It's clear and well-written, and not without its artistic charm. I'm a big fan of short stories, and each one of these artisan's stories is a tidy package of literary prose, painting a beautiful scene, here the south of France, there the Puget Sound. And to top it all off, each story ends with a few lovely recipes!

One of which was Lemon Clouds Cheesecake, which I could not resist making. It's just about the simplest, most decadent little pie you've ever met. You must make this for a special dinner or make sure you have pie-eating people around, otherwise you'll eat the whole thing. Unless your diet requires you to eat a good deal of cream and eggs. Then, by all means, eat the whole thing. A simple mixture of lemon curd, cream cheese, and heavy whipped cream folded and turned into a graham cracker crust seemed so innocent at first...Good thing I have wonderful neighbors to help me out in situations like this.

So, why don't you leave me a comment telling me who your personal food heroes are, and you will be entered in a drawing to win a copy of Food Heroes by Georgia Pellegrini. The end date will be Wednesday, September 29 at midnight (EST). Please make sure to leave an e-mail address if you aren't linked to a blog, so I can contact you if you win!

Mulberry Rhubarb Lemon Jam

For this month's installment of the Tigress Can Jam, the pick of the month, courtesy of the amazingly prolific and expansive Joel and Dana of Well Preserved, was berries. I can't wait for the round-up on this one. Who doesn't love berries? There are so many of them, and because this season has been incredibly early, we are rolling in them right about now. My strawberry patch stopped producing a while ago, and I thankfully caught the very end of the season at a local organic strawberry farm just the other day. I've gone across the Hudson river to pick black, red and pink currants, as my three highly productive bushes got completely cleaned out one day. (I think the culprit was a chipmunk and some birds. My fault I didn't have them netted.) Raspberries are everywhere in the wild, the small black variety and wineberries, a similar wild raspberry. The big red ones are right on their heels. And though elderberries are the size of a poppy seed, their flowers are everywhere and can make a nice syrup or liqueur. So. What do make?

A few years back, there was a small mulberry tree grappling for a space among a thatch of honeysuckle bushes. I cut back all the bushes and let the tree grow. Mulberry trees are the forgotten berry tree, even though they are everywhere and seedling pop up in cement cracks. I think people used to appreciate them more, but now they are considered just a nuisance. When I was a child, we had a large black-berried tree right next to the back door. We would spend a good portion of the summer in it. Mulberry trees are great for climbing, they have low limbs and many of them. My mother once told me a story about how mulberry tree leaves were what silk worms were fed in order to create silk. I promptly began eating the leaves, which are edible, and at the time, quite tasty. One day, my mother decided that she had had enough of the big, black berries staining the doorway, and it was cut down. I was a miserable teenager at the time, so I'm sure I pretended to not care or was outraged and indignant, one of the two---or perhaps both.

This year I was thrilled when the tree promised to have a good yield of berries. We have a white mulberry tree, which pales in comparison to the trees with black berries, both in color and taste. My son, who is almost two, and I would walk past the tree every day to let out the chickens and graze on the berries. They are mild and lack acidity, but they are sweet and free for the taking. They lasted about two weeks, and at the end they really plumped out and took on a pinkish hue. Then, suddenly the birds took over, and they declared the season over. I neglected to take a picture of them while they were hanging in the tree. Early in the morning, it's hard to remember the camera, which isn't so bad a thing really. But I now realize there isn't one good picture of the white mulberries. Can you see them floating around with the rhubarb and lemon down there in the pot?

This jam didn't gel up too much, just like my rhubarb jam from last month, but it's incredibly delicious. I think there was a bit too much sugar in it. The taste is sweet and yet still tart, and the texture is wonderful. Strands of chewy lemon, chunks of rhubarb, and mulberries all retained their shape and became candied.

2 cups of mulberries (don't worry about those little stems, you can eat them!)

1 cup of rhubarb, diced

1 medium lemon, sliced finely

3 cups of sugar

Boil in a heavy pot until gel stage is reached, usually at around 220 degrees if you are using a thermometer. Process in boiling water for ten minutes. Makes three half-pints.

A walk down the block finds many black-berried mulberry trees, and the other day when I was looking out for a particularly good branch I had found earlier, I spied, thankfully, a large black rat snake, hanging out in the branch. Do snakes eat mulberries? Or was it just a really nice hot spot? I didn't linger to ask.

Lemon Orange Fennel Ginger Jelly

Hello. My name is Julia, and I, uh, I make jelly. Yeah, it's sad but on a Friday what am I doing? Making jelly. The baby went to sleep and Steve went to play poker, so I grabbed my hot water tongs and fired up the citrus. Again. I was obsessed with citrus before the can jam, but Tigress' Can Jam put me over the edge into problem territory. It's just so much fun playing with something that is so high in natural pectin. And there are so many fringe benefits: syrup, candied peels, etc.

So. I had a bag of mixed citrus: navel oranges, juice oranges, tangerines. I juiced them all and saved the peels for candied citrus peel. (I have a bag in the freezer and once it's big enough, a' candying I will go.) They yielded two cups of juice. Then I had six lemons, of which I juiced four yielding one cup of juice. Rinds in the freezer. The last two were well chilled and I sliced them in the food processor using the fine slice disc. Adding the juice and pulp together yielded four cups. I chose not to macerate and put it all in my pan with one tablespoon of fennel and a chunk of peeled ginger, sliced in thick rounds. Bringing it to 220 degrees was quick. When I knew it was close, I skimmed all of the fruit peels, seeds, and ginger, and a good deal of the fennel. Canned and processed ten minutes.

The jelly tastes outrageously good. I love fennel and lemon together. The ginger wasn't so evident—next time I might grate it. The set was not very firm; a tender set, but thicker than a glaze. The two lemons weren't enough, and it probably would have been good to bring it all to a boil and let it sit overnight. But, I'm impatient. This recipe gave me two full half pints, and one half pint just a hair too low to process. I'd like to point out that the jar pictured above was the fridge jar and was not processed!

Bonus: I saved the skimmed fruit. It's candied! I will chop it, fennel and all, and add it to a scone recipe. Maybe with some golden raisins.

What do you do with all this jam? Why, make thumbprint cookies, of course. Mine are a low-rent version, using my basic cookie dough that I keep on hand for emergencies. A classier and tasty looking version can be found here. I had been meaning to make these for a while!

Plum Ginger Cake with Lemon Vanilla Jelly Glaze

Reading the posts from the last few days paints a picture that somehow I subsist on a diet of jelly. Which is probably not so far from the truth in relation to other folks, but I do eat healthy meals consisting on brown rice and legumes and meat and vegetables. Really! But winter beckons with its snowy claw and so I'm forced (forced!) to stay inside and create sweet concoctions. That's the view from the kitchen. Just yesterday it was all green and muddy. Sigh. I know, it's still January!! Leave winter be!

A much needed ray of sunshine: Lemon Vanilla Jelly. I did a small batch with some leftover apple extraction from the Tangelo Lemongrass Jelly I made for month one of the Tigress' Can Jam (follow link on sidebar for more on that). I didn't have any half-pint jars left, so I used a pint jar. My yield was a pint jar, sealed, and a half-pint in the fridge. A pint jar of jelly is an absurd thing. That's a lot of jelly, people.

1 cup of apple pectin extraction (see linked recipe above for directions)

1 cup of fresh squeezed lemon juice

2 cups of sugar

1/3 of a vanilla bean pod, scraped

Combine all in a pan and bring to boil. Boil until jell point is reached, 220 degrees, about ten to fifteen minutes. This one jelled up quick! Can and seal, process for fifteen minutes. (I would do ten minutes for half-pints.)

It tastes tart and lemony, not too sweet, a delicate but firm set, and a hint of vanilla wafting through. Great tart glaze, I'll bet. And so...

So, what? So: I made this little cake based on my quick Lime Curd Cake recipe, but subbed plum ginger preserves in for the curd. The preserves were from this summer, rosy pink, tart and spicy, made from local Santa Rosa plums and Stayman Winesap apples. I glazed the cake with a spoonful of jelly heated and turned to syrup.

I was going to dust it with confectioner's sugar, but it was too pretty to cover with snow. There's enough of it outside!

Fig Lemon and Fennel Jam

I've had some dried organic mission figs I bought on sale from the health food store that have been patiently waiting while I got swept away with all this citrus. I didn't forget about them, I just knew how patient they could be, sitting there, all wrinkly in a jar, quiet, thoughtful. I saw a great recipe for dried figs from Consider the Pantry that I will make one day, probably with Calmyrna figs. In describing the jam she mentions the taste of Fig Newtons. That sounds just blessed to me. I was also completely smitten with The Laundry's Can Jam entry, Lemon, Fig and Lavander Marmalade. It had me swooning. I was there.

But then I was twiddling through the Joy of Cooking and in the fruit section there was a little gem called Fig Compote with Lemon and Ginger. I had everything on hand. All the right amounts. Of course, I had to change a few things. And it came out heavenly. It perfumed the house. Not too sweet due to the lemon which candies, ever so slightly vanillin, and the fennel just takes it back from being completely dessert-y. It is close to a compote because I left half of the figs whole and the rest are split so those nice little seeds squoosh out. The syrup they float in is thick. I am planning on getting some incredible vanilla ice cream today so I can put a dollop on top. But it's definitely an eat-from-the-jar kind of thing.

Fig Lemon Fennel Jam

1 pound of dried figs, stems removed

3 cups of water

1 lemon, zest only, in strips

1 tablespoon of fennel seeds

1/3 vanilla bean pod, seeds scraped

Simmer until figs are plumped. About thirty minutes.

Add:

1 cup of sugar

2 tablespoons of lemon juice

Simmer for another thirty minutes or so until the syrup reaches your desired consistency. If you want, split half the figs with a flat edged utensil. Process for ten minutes.

NOTE: The original recipe does not water bath it. It is meant for immediate consumption, and will sit in the fridge for a month. However, I am a wild kind of soul and decided it was okay to can. (I felt it was similar enough to a few recipes that the acid was okay. I also raised the sugar.) However, I only made enough for me and will be the only one consuming it. There was no testing involved. So can this at your own risk.

It was miserable outside when I made this and the power went out just as I was finishing up. So I canned by candlelight. Very romantic.

Jelly Stands for J!

I'd like to introduce you to Lemon-Lime Jelly. Well, maybe Lemon-Lime Glaze. Not sure yet. Some jellies take two weeks to firm up, so we'll see, but I'm not optimistic. This was an experiment, which most reliable canning books tell you not to undertake, but I don't listen to anything. Not trying to be rogue here, I'm just lazy. I think its best to be wary of canning, but I also let a lot of stuff fly. (N.B.: I have been doing this haphazardly for fifteen years, so...) I was checking out some recipes on NPR and they were really loosey-goosey which brought out the crank in me, but whatever. I would have commented on it all, but you had to log in.

I thought that maybe since lemons and limes are so high in pectin--some store bought pectin is derived from citrus peel, mostly lime--I figured let's make a go of it, relying on a recipe for crab apple jelly, which are also high in pectin. I added some lime peel to the mix hoping for its pectin goodness. The jelling point came really quickly, which surprised me because last time it took forever. Apparently, this happens. Thank god for my new candy thermometer. I love it!

Whatever it is, it tastes delicious, just not sure of its jelly status.