The Fresh Lemon Pledge

James Troutman

Originally written 2003/08/09
Last revised 2003/08/09

I'm a lemony kind of person. I always have a supply of fresh lemons sitting in the refrigerator, and more often than not there's a portion of a lemon resting on a small plate, because I'm always adding lemon to my Diet Coke, tea, and tap water, not to mention using a bit of lemon to enhance the flavor of stir-fries or pancakes.

A couple years ago I decided it was time to explore the pleasures of lemon zest, something that's called for by many recipes but always seemed to be too much trouble. Was I in for a surprise. If you have the right tool, not only is zesting a lemon a simple, painless task, but lemon zest truly is the soul of the lemon, as it contains most of the lemon's distinctive flavor. Now adding a pinch (or a teaspoon!) of lemon zest has become almost second nature to me.

The right tool turned out to be a Microplane Grater, a product that actually started out as a woodworking tool. But don't worry about that; all you need to know is that it makes zesting a lemon a snap without any fear of getting any of the bitter-tasting white pith mixed in with the zest. Plus you can use it to grate just about anything else from fresh ginger to parmesan cheese.

One of the minor annoyances of using fresh lemons is the seeds. Happily, one can minimize the nuisance by shopping for Lisbon lemons, identified by the lack of a distinct neck at the stem end and the presence of a pointed nipple at the blossom end. (This and dozens of other lemon tips along with 175 recipes can be found in Lori Longbotham's aptly named Lemon Zest. Oh, and she agrees with me about the Microplane Grater!)

Lemon juice can be substituted for vinegar in many recipes, and it can even be used in conjunction with baking soda instead of baking powder: use about one tablespoon of fresh lemon juice and one-half teaspoon of baking soda per cup of flour. And you can simulate buttermilk by adding a tablespoon of lemon juice to a cup of milk and letting it stand until it curdles.