Preserved Meyer Lemon Relish

+ A poem

We have two Meyer lemon trees in our backyard, and they are going OFF this year. I am a lemon fanatic and it makes me so happy to walk outside and be able to pluck a few juicy lemons off my tree at any time.

I somehow managed to carve out some weekend time to make preserved lemons, which I've been meaning to do for years. In the past, I've used my friend's family recipe for preserved lemons, which involved drying lemon slices in the sun on a bed of salt, and then preserving them in oil. The results have been fantastic, but as it's been raining here for months straight, this wasn't an option. So I went for an alternative method, where you preserve the lemons in salt and their own juices.

My twist on the basic recipe is that I’ve front-loaded the work of chopping the preserved peel every time you want to use it. Once the preserved lemons were ready, I threw the rinds into the food processor and now I have a chunky relish that I can, and do, spoon on nearly anything: a bowl of beans and greens (of course), soups, salads, sauces, marinades, dips. The options are endless!

Preserved Meyer Lemon Relish

12 organic lemons, preferably Meyer lemons (about 3 pounds)

1/2 cup sea salt

One quart jar or 2 pint jars

1 cup extra-virgin olive oil (optional)

Sterilize the jar(s) by boiling in hot water for 10 minutes. Keep hot until ready to use. Wash the lid(s) and band(s) with warm, soapy water.

Juice 6 of the lemons. You should end up with about 1 1/2 cups lemon juice.

Wash the remaining 6 lemons well, then pat dry. Cut a thin slice off the stem end of each lemon. Starting with the cut end, cut each lemon into 4 quarters, leaving the bottom end connected by about half-inch of fruit.

Pour 1 tablespoon of the salt into the bottom of the sterilized jar(s). Hold one lemon over the jar, fan open the lemon quarters, and pour about 1 tablespoon of salt into the middle. Rub in the salt a bit so it adheres. Place the lemon in the jar and repeat with the remaining lemons and salt, packing the lemons tightly into the jar(s). I was able to fit 6 lemons into a quart-size canning jar. Cover with any remaining salt.

Fill the jar(s) with the lemon juice. The juice should reach to about 1/2 inch of the top. Add more if it doesn’t. Add the lid and screw the band on tightly.

Store the jar(s) of lemons in a cool, dark place, or in the refrigerator, for about 2 weeks. Shake the jar(s) every day or two to evenly distribute the salt.

After about 2 weeks, the lemon rinds should be soft and ready to use.

To make the relish, remove and discard the pulp and membrane from each lemon. Place the lemon rinds in a food processor and pour in about half of the liquid left in the jar. Pulse until the rinds are roughly chopped. You can add more liquid if you like, or discard it, or save it for another use. You can also chop the rinds by hand if you don’t have a food processor available.

At this point, I divided the lemon relish among smaller (sterilized) jars so I could share some with friends. You could also return it to the original jar and keep it all for yourself (which I probably should have done). If you like, you can top with olive oil to mellow out the flavor.

Store in the refrigerator for up to 6 months.

And finally, a poem. At some point in my life, I discovered the poetry of Mary Oliver and it moved me deeply. She passed away recently and I've been rereading her poems and still loving them. Here is one of my favorites:

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

from New and Selected Poems, 1992 Beacon Press, Boston, MA

© Mary Oliver