I’ve never liked that “When life hands
you lemons…” expression, because frankly, life is lemons.
It’s also chocolate cake and chicken vindaloo and a hunk of cave-aged cheddar cheese. It’s Tater Tots and steak tartare. It’s peanut butter toast, a slice of watermelon, a bowl of rice and beans.
And life doesn’t just hand us lemons, we
often stand under the tree, reach up, and pick the fruit ourselves.
That said, my own life has lately felt
very lemony. Maybe it’s my marriage ending when I didn’t want it to, or being
unable to write and unsure of what I’m doing with my life, or falling in love
and breaking up and getting back together with someone new, or trying to find a
job, or selling my home, or moving to a new city, leaving behind most of the people who held me up, both literally and
metaphorically, as I stumbled my way through the past year and a half. Or maybe
it’s just the where-the-hell-is-spring blues.
Whatever it is, there are lemons
everywhere. Trees of sunshine-yellow fruit that I can’t resist picking. Lemons
falling from the sky. Lemons littering the ground underfoot, making for very
unstable terrain. And while I know that being alive is a fundamentally wobbly
endeavor, I wouldn’t mind the illusion right now of some real solid ground
beneath my feet. I’m shaky and scared and tired. I’m in a sour-lemon funk. And you know what they say: When
life hands you lemons, make lemon pudding.
The original recipe was called Meyer
Lemon Budino (budino is the Italian word for pudding), but life hasn’t been
handing me Meyer lemons, so I used the regular kind, and an orange.
This
pudding is quick and easy to whip up, made with ingredients that you most
likely have on hand (if life isn’t handing you lemons, check your
refrigerator—there are probably a few rolling around in the crisper). Life is
lemons. It’s flour and eggs and sugar and milk and salt and butter. Just typing
those words was a comfort. So is knowing that such reliable staples—all you
need to make this pudding— are sitting in the darkness of the refrigerator and
cupboard in my kitchen.
So was making pudding on a Sunday
afternoon. Squeezing the lemons and grating the rind,
separating the eggs, whisking the yolks with the sugar
separating the eggs, whisking the yolks with the sugar
and flour and lemon and milk, beating the
whites with the salt. Pouring the batter into six little Mason jars
and baking
them in a water bath. The smell that filled my sunlit apartment.
The batter magically separates while
baking: a layer of lemon-curd-like custard on the bottom, an airy poof of cake
on top. I ate one straight from the oven with a wallop of whipped cream.
Now five little Mason jars of pudding. The
cakey top sinks and shrinks a bit as the pudding cools, which was fine for my
purposes. I capped the jars and walked around my new neighborhood delivering
pudding to the few but dear friends I have here.
I’m so, so grateful for those
friends. For lemons and lemon pudding. For flour and eggs and sugar and milk
and salt and butter. For the way a stocked pantry is a version of a solid life.
I brought pudding and was invited to stay for dinner—life is gorgonzola-and-eggplant
ravioli, and when we're lucky, a deep breath on solid ground.
Life-Is-Lemons Pudding
Adapted from Bon Appetit
Note: The recipe calls for Meyer lemons,
and I made it once this way and once with 1/4 regular lemon juice and 2
tablespoons of fresh orange juice, and didn’t notice a difference. According
to the reviews of the recipe on Epicurious, plenty of people have
successfully made it entirely with regular lemons.
Butter
1/2 cup plus 2
tablespoons sugar
3 large eggs,
separated
1/4 cup all purpose
flour
1/4 cup fresh Meyer
lemon juice
2 tablespoons fresh
regular lemon juice
2 tablespoons finely
grated Meyer lemon peel
3/4 cup plus 2
tablespoons whole milk
1/4 teaspoon salt
Whipped cream
(optional)
1. Preheat
oven to 350°F. Butter six 3/4-cup custard cups or ramekins or Mason jars.
2. Combine
1/2 cup sugar, egg yolks, flour, lemon juice, and lemon peel in large bowl;
whisk until well blended. Whisk in milk.
3. Using
electric mixer, beat egg whites and salt in medium bowl until frothy. Gradually
add remaining 2 tablespoons sugar and beat until soft peaks form. Fold beaten
egg whites into lemon mixture in 2 additions.
4. Divide
mixture among prepared custard cups. Place custard cups in roasting pan. Pour
enough hot water into roasting pan to come halfway up sides of custard cups.
Bake puddings until tops are golden and spring back when lightly touched, about
30 minutes. Remove cups from water. Serve warm or cold with whipped cream, if
desired.
A-fucking-men. I am in a lemon grove picking bushels of lemons. At least now I know what to do with them all. Jayzus
ReplyDeleteIf you love your lemons, you are leaps & bounds ahead of many in this world. Carry on, Sweet Bl*g Mistress.
ReplyDeleteLife IS lemons. Thank goodness some of us have enough sense to make pudding. Or lemonade (fine, let's be honest, vodka-spiked lemonade).
ReplyDelete