The Devil Made Me Do It

What’s cooking? Preserved Lemons and Warm Green Vinaigrette

The Kitchen Goddess got a little carried away in this post, so here’s the short-form:

1. The etymology of “idle hands” – ok, not funny, but interesting.

2. Easy instructions for preserving lemons. Which you’ll want to do after reading #3.

3. A perfectly wonderful and seriously useful recipe for Warm Green Vinaigrette. The KG had it at almost every meal (even on hard-boiled eggs, for breakfast), until she ran out.

Even after four months of this pandemic... experience, I wake up almost every morning with a check of all my faculties, wondering if that tingling feeling means anything. Then I get up, have breakfast, and realize it was probably just the need for food and coffee.

I read the paper – not for any news, because it’s almost all the same stuff these days (politics and Covid case counts), but for the occasional piece on science or the arts or fun things to do with your small children, even though the small children in my family are nearly 1,700 miles away. I send links or actual clippings from that last category of pieces to my daughter-in-law, in hopes of helping her cope, but mostly as just something to do. That would be because I’ll take almost any excuse to keep from having to clean up/organize my office.

The office cleaning/organizing thing is easier to avoid if I just stay in the kitchen. But you know the old saying about idle hands... Would you like to know where that saying comes from? Of course you would.

Way back in the 4th century, St. Jerome wrote, “engage in some occupation, so that the devil may always find you busy.” A thousand years later, Chaucer ran with a similar thought in the “Prologue to the Second Nun’s Tale” from The Canterbury Tales: “An idle man is like a place that has no walls; the devils may enter on every side.”.

Then the Protestants got hold of it. According to my New Jersey minister, Martin Luther (in the 16th century) was the first theologian to suggest that our work in the world was as important as the holiness that the monastery sought to achieve. And The Living Bible in 1971 cemented the concept into its translation, with “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop; idle lips are his mouthpiece.” Leave it to the Protestants...

Okay, enough of that.

So when the Kitchen Goddess finds herself with time on her hands, it’s hard to know where the devil will take her. The latest urge was inspired by a recipe for Warm Green Vinaigrette, which included as an ingredient “preserved lemon.”

In the past, when the KG had a need for preserved lemon, she either found some in jars at Whole Foods, or substituted lemon zest and a bit of lemon juice, which doesn’t quite fit the bill. Preserved lemons deliver a mellower taste than you get with fresh lemon – a mildly tart, yet intense lemony flavor. But the process of making them takes 3-4 weeks. Hmmm... she said to herself, 3-4 weeks... I think I have that kind of time.

It turns out that the actual work of preserving lemons takes maybe a half hour. You hear that? Thirty minutes. The rest of the time, you’re just shaking them up once a day. I remembered doing the preparations once when we lived full-time in New Jersey, then putting the jar on a shelf in my pantry. I discovered it several years later, when we were moving, and while those lemons might have been well preserved, I had no real interest in investigating.

But I know that many of you now also have some extra time. And – to repeat – this project just needs shaking/turning the jar once a day, to encourage the salt to dissolve and distribute itself in the brine. Moreover, once you have some, they’ll keep at least a year – maybe longer, as long as they stay submerged in the brine.

The internet has enough YouTube videos and written recipes for preserving lemons to make your head spin. But I thought this was the simplest and most straightforward. It comes from Julia Moskin in The New York Times, who (in the grand tradition of recipe borrowing) adapted it from Paula Wolfert in Wolfert’s 1973 book, Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco.

Preserved Lemons

Adapted from Julia Moskin in The New York Times

Ingredients

When I saw how tightly they pack,
I shifted to a smaller jar.

5-6 lemons for preserving [Kitchen Goddess note: Organic is recommended because you’ll be eating the skins. If you can’t find organic, let the lemons sit in some vinegar water for a few minutes, then rinse. KG used Meyer lemons, but regular are fine.]
2-3 more lemons for juice
Kosher salt

Special equipment: one medium-sized jar with a tight-fitting lid – whatever size will fit the number of lemons you want to preserve – sterilized in the dishwasher or in a large pot where it can sit raised off the bottom (use a footed baking rack or steamer), in boiling water for 5 minutes. I used a 17-ounce Mason jar with a clamp lid, which I read works better than the ones with ring-type lids. (Don’t boil the rubber gasket.) In that little 17-ounce jar, I fit 6 Meyer lemons.

Directions
Scrub the lemons clean. Slice the ends off each lemon, then cut into quarters lengthwise from the top to within ½ inch of the bottom, leaving them attached at one end.

Cover the bottom of the jar with 2-3 tablespoons of kosher salt. Lightly pack each lemon with kosher salt, then reshape the fruit and fit the lemons into the jar. Press on the lemons as you fit them into the jar, to release the juice. Break some of the lemons apart if necessary, to fit in as many as you can. As you get one layer set, sprinkle more salt before adding another layer.

Press the lemons down to release their juices. Squeeze the additional lemons into the jar until juice covers everything.

Close the jar and let the lemons ripen at cool room temperature, shaking the jar every day (to dissolve the salt and distribute the brine) for 3-4 weeks, or until the rinds are tender. Then store the jar in the refrigerator.

As you can see in the photo above, the Kitchen Goddess had a handy aid to make sure the lemons were all submerged. It’s called a Pickle Pebble, and you can get a package of 4 for $18.95 at amazon.com. The generic name is fermentation weights, and they’re available at a number of websites or kitchen stores. They’re not mandatory – KG was on amazon.com and saw them, and it was like a little twinkle she could not resist. You can just add more juice.



To use the preserved lemons, remove a piece of lemon and rinse it. (My understanding is that you can add more fresh lemons to the brine as you use them up, but am thinking I’ll just wait until I’ve used the entire jar’s worth.) Recipes usually call for the minced rind to be added at the very end of cooking or used raw; the pulp can be added to a simmering pot.

What would you do with preserved lemons if you had some?
You might make Chicken Tagine, a traditional Moroccan dish that’s both easy and impressive. With a little research, the Kitchen Goddess has unearthed a handful of chicken recipes that she plans to try and pass on to you... soon. Preserved lemons are also good on grilled fish and braised veggies.

Here’s that warm vinaigrette over scallops that were already perfectly delicious, suddenly even more so.

Or try this delightful and flexible, light and bright, tart and savory warm green vinaigrette. (Is that enough helpful adjectives?) The Kitchen Goddess is amazed at how well it transforms the simplest salads, gives a dressy touch to asparagus or green beans, and adds sparkle to a dinner of sautéed scallops over rice. (See above.) And according to the originator of the recipe, any leftover sauce is great spooned over creamy ricotta.

Warm Green Vinaigrette

Adapted from Laurie Ellen Pellicano in Taste Magazine.

Makes 1 cup of dressing.

Ingredients
½ cup plus 3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2-3 hefty sprigs of fresh oregano
1 tablespoon roughly chopped capers
5-6 Castelvetrano olives, or other meaty green olives, roughly chopped (enough to make 2 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon minced preserved lemons (about ¼ of one lemon, flesh included)*
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
½ teaspoon kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper

*Kitchen Goddess note: Be sure to rinse the lemon wedge in cold water and pat it dry before using it.

Directions
Heat the 3 tablespoons of olive oil and the oregano sprigs together in a small skillet over medium-low heat. As the heat rises, the oil will tend to sputter with the oregano. This is normal. Once the sputtering picks up and the oregano leaves have turned dark and stiff (3-4 minutes), remove the sprigs with small tongs or a fork, and let them drain on paper towels.

Add the chopped capers to the oil and cook for 1-2 minutes, until they appear to be lightly browned. Add the olives, and cook the mixture an additional 1 minute, stirring regularly just to lightly fry the olives. Turn the heat off, but leave the skillet in place on the warm burner.

Stir in the Dijon mustard, preserved lemon, and white wine vinegar, then whisk in the remaining ½ cup olive oil. Finely crumble the fried oregano leaves between your fingers, and add them to the vinaigrette.

Stir well to combine. Add salt and several fresh grinds of black pepper, to taste. If you’re going to be using the vinaigrette immediately, leave it in the skillet or saucepan until you’re ready. Otherwise, scrape it into a jar or other container to be stored in the fridge. Use warm or at room temperature;
if you store it refrigerated, temper it in a microwave or skillet/saucepan over low heat when ready to use.

Happy lemon preserving, everyone!