October 2003

 


I have always thought that every back garden should have a lemon tree. During winter, when most trees are dormant, the sight of these vivid yellow fruits dancing on a tree is a delight -and for the cook, a necessity. Where would we be without the lemon to add zest to our food?

As Margaret Visser wisely informs us in "Much Depends on Dinner", a modern kitchen without a lemon in it is gravely ill-equipped. And a modern kitchen without a zester or microplane to remove the zest is even more gravely ill-equipped, I would quickly add. When you cut a lemon -or grate its zest - its lively fragrance is unmistakeable; when you add its juice to your cooking its acidity arouses your taste buds, causing salivation. Perhaps we take lemons too much for granted? They grow so abundantly in the backyards of subtropical Australia that it can sometimes be difficult to know what to do with the excess fruit.

But not for German poet Rainer Maria Rilke. Coming from a cold northern climate, he was captivated by their beauty, smell and taste, as well as their promise of the warm south.

"How I LIVE it, this fragrance of lemons," he wrote. "God knows how much I owe to it at times". In a letter to his wife dated 1901, he imagines a simple country tea which includes these evocative fruits:

"There would be some tea ready to be drunk, yellowish golden tea in glasses with silver sauces, giving off a faint fragrance and Huge lemons, cut into slices, would sink like setting suns into the dusky sea, softly illuminating it with their radiating membranes, and its clear, smooth surface aquiver from the rising bitter essence."

Yet even Rilke neglects to mention the intoxicating perfume of a lemon tree in flower - and of the leaves when crushed in your hand. A whole book could be written in praise of the lemon. Whilst its uses in the kitchen are diverse (lemonade, lemon tart, veal scaloppine with lemon, spaghetti with lemon, chicken with lemon, lemon curd, lemon poppy seed cake) it is a food rarely eaten on its own. True, the Moroccans do preserve their lemons in salt (see below) and in India they are preserved when green in mustard oil and exotic spices and served as a condiment with curries. Picked fresh from a tree with a few leaves attached, they make a wonderful centerpiece for a table. Why not plant a lemon tree today?


 

RECIPES

Chicken with Lemons

A Moroccan-inspired dish which will add colour and flavour to your repertoire.
If you can't find the cracked olives, use green jumbo olives. Onions are frequently used as a thickening agent in Moroccan dishes - peel and chop then pulse in the food processor.

Serves 6 - 8

500g cracked green olives
2 medium chickens, cut into serving pieces
1 onion, minced
3 - 4 cloves garlic, minced
30 ml olive oil
1 teaspoon ground ginger
½ (half) teaspoon ground cumin
Salt
Large pinch saffron threads
Approx 1 litre water
2 preserved lemons
2 tablespoons paprika
3 onions, minced
Juice of 2 fresh lemons (or to taste)
Extra preserved lemon, cut in eighths
for garnish

Rinse the olives and blanch them if they taste bitter. Set aside. Mix the chicken pieces with one minced onion, the garlic, oil, ginger, cumin, salt and saffron. Put the mixture into a large pan, cover with the water and bring to the boil. Turn down heat and partially cover. Simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Rinse the lemons and finely slice the rind, discarding all the pith. Add the zest to the chicken along with the paprika and remaining minced onions. Partially cover again and continue cooking until chicken is very tender, about 30 - 40 minutes. Remove chicken pieces from the pan and keep warm. Reduce the juices until you have a thickish sauce, then add lemon juice to taste. Arrange chicken pieces in a circle on a large platter. Put the olives in he center. Pour over the hot sauce. Garnish with the extra preserved lemon.
Excellent with steamed couscous.

Tip: Preserved lemons are available in gourmet food stores. Some health
food stores also stock them.