There was a poster for a lemon cordial that I still clearly remember from my childhood. It was an illustration of a lemon with a humanoid face that was puckered with the sharpness that we associate with lemon juice: “Idris when I’s dri” was the memorable strap line. The hollow cheeked, yellow face, rebelling against the tartness of lemon, was an unusual device for promoting the sweet taste of lemon cordial, or squash as we called it then, but it must have been successful as I not only remember the poster but also the shape of the bottle. Lemon squash, as my drink, gave way to lemonade which in turn was mixed with beer before taking on the minimalist look of a slice of lemon in a gin and tonic. From that point on lemon was closely allied to “falling down” water. This period, let us call it my yellow period, included my short love affair with the vodka Martini. It was short because so am I and the stools in the Zanzibar were very tall. My regular falls from grace meant that I was suffering the same sort of damage as a serious sportsman whilst simply enjoying the odd Martini or ten. The final phase of my lemonism took place in Positano where I self harmed with Limoncello. I had to call it a day, but I couldn’t as it had too many syllables for my critically citrically impaired mind and then it all went dark.
Today, lemons and I have a more stable relationship: I only eat them. The lemonism remains as I still can’t get enough of them. Tarte au citron, lemon cakes, lemon sorbets, lemon granitas, lemon bars: lemon has the ability to position itself as a real competitor to chocolate. But lemons rise up into a higher realm when used as a seasoning or flavouring influence, introducing a sweet sharpness that is singularly seductive. Preserved lemons set me on this course today. 
On opening the preserving jar I’m mesmerised by the the scent. How can the simple addition of salt, water and paprika transform the simple fruit into a palate hallucinogen, the ne plus ultra of conserves? I find I’m dipping my spoon into the liquid and sipping it like a delicious cocktail. Oh God, lemonism is upon me….I’m sure a Martini might benefit from a drop of such an intense…stop it, stop it now….
Lemon eclipses chocolate for me – so you might say I’m a lemonist too. Drinking the lemon water from the jar – done it. Putting it in a cocktail…well there’s a thought.
I’m sure it would be good:)
Lemonism , great word by the way, could be a real addiction, it can marry with chocolate very well, though might be challenged marriage !! If lemon tarts with chocolate on the bottom are in the wedding party than this might be the BLISS for a successful marriage. Cheers to your lemonized poetry!
I like the idea of this lemon and chocolate tart. Is this the fantasy of a lemonist or an existing recipe?
existing fantasy…..!!!
🙂
Delicious. This post makes me want to preserve some lemons then candy the rest.
Why have I not thought of this?
Ha ha – far too salty for a Martini, but I did wonder myself before I bit one 😉
I still think that a curl of the zest would do no harm to an ice cold, very aromatic gin Martini:)
I like the way you are thinking and might try that tonight 😉
Let me know how it goes..I’d be interested.
It’s very good in a Hendrick’s Gin Martini – 4:1.
There’s a slight hint of salt and lemon.
One might not be enough… 😉
Best possible recommendation. Congratulations test pilot:)
In the interest of research only, I tried one with Russian Standard, which was good, but not as good as with gin 😉
True devotion to duty…I had a feeling that the vodka would not be as good as the gin.
I will have to make some more preserved lemons soon, if only to try the liquid in a cocktail 🙂
It could be a winner.
Oh me, oh my… a Tanqueray martini with a twist is a go-to drink of mine. I can’t quite indulge as much as I used to, but a clean, crisp citrus flavor highlights the juniper so well. The idea of “lemonism” is a fun one. I don’t necessarily consider myself a lemonist, but can understand the attraction.
You may well be a closet “lemonist”…have you considered this:)
Possibly. Does that mean I should come out of the pantry?
I think it’s the only answer:)
My husband always says to me “you and your lemon vest”. I have a habit of adding it to many savoury dishes, I cant help myself, it transforms a dish in with the slightest grate. He has no complaints with his lemon rind in martini which he prefers over olives.
Sounds a very sound man, well deserving of a woman of such good taste:)
Ugh, preserved lemons. No, thank you.
You’re in a minority of one, Yummy:)
What about candied lemon rinds dipped in chocolate? (in response to your words: “lemon has the ability to position itself as a real competitor to chocolate”) Best of both worlds!?
That works for me, Marina:)
Fresh lemons are some of the nicest things this world has to offer us, Roger…
That’s true,Kate. I often why the wise man chose myrrh rather than lemons:)
Ah! Thanks, Roger. I made and stashed a couple jars of preserved lemon in the back of my refrigerator’s lowest shelf, forgetting about them soon thereafter. Thanks for the reminder. It’s time I found use for them. It wouldn’t hurt to clean out the fridge, too. 😉
That’s a nice surprise, John. Not the cleaning out of the fridge, but the hidden treasure:)
I preserve lemons too and have some in my pantry now. It seems I’m missing a terrific sounding ingredient…paprika. Who knew.
Paprika makes a difference…it’s not essential, but it changes the flavour:)
Gorgeous, Roger. It’s been a number of years since we’ve preserved lemons. I think it’s time to remedy that.
Absolutely, Michelle. They really make a huge difference to a tagine.
I’m growing a lemon tree in a container outside and can’t wait to taste the fruit. Never preserved anything, but may have to give this a try.
Definitely. Having a source of fresh lemons to make preserved lemons is ideal.
Your method uses water? Would you post it here for us? I’ve only seen it topped up with extra lemon juice, which I think makes it almost too sharp. Paprika sounds good, too.
I’ll do that.
Thanks – I look forward to it. Meanwhile I’m off to get some gin, in preparation.