Locomotoring

While the leaves of this thai citrus are broadly usable – from perfuming the plain rice to perfuming rich coconut curries, the fruit is challenging. Small as golf balls, and almost equally hard when green, they do look non-conforming with their bumpy, warty skins. They yield very little juice and for most part, they are astringent and bitter. Far more bitter than bitter orange. In a prior year, I salt cured the makrut lime fruit and used the cured lime in Indian style cooked pickle i.e., lots of ginger and green chilies. A friend gave us vodka cured makrut that we have been muddling in our cocktails. Most years, I let the fruit ripen and use its juice. The act of ripening reduces the astringency of the juice. Here was my attempt to wrangle the fruit this season.

Starting with about a pound of makrut lime, I first gave it a good wash, and then took off a thin layer of the peel. Then I thinly sliced the remaining fruit on the mandolin. To it I added 5-6 cups of water and allowed the fruit and water mixture to come to a boil. Then I switch off the heat and let it sit overnight, or perhaps it was 15 hours. At that point, I strained it to remove bulk of the fruit and planned on adding a pound of sugar. My plan was to first add half a pound of sugar, and then continue adding while tasting. I was prepared to stop adding sugar as soon as the bitterness became palatable. I used the entire pound. I then added the peels back. I could have added more sugar, some fellow pagans out there suggested using two pounds. I didn’t believe them either. I didn’t see the point in completely losing the bitter characteristics of the lime. I was only trying to make it a little conforming. If I wanted a lime marmalade, I could have started with another variety. Right before switching off the flame, I added a quarter cup of rum and then bottled up the marmalade. I think it wants to be eaten in small quantities with a very umami cheese.

It is possible that their lack of conformity with the rest of the citrus community had earned them the name “kaffir” lime. As a child and young adult, growing up in south asia, I was taught that the word “kafir” mean pagan or non-believer. It had meant nothing more, nothing less – that too in a country where the memories of brutal killings, in the aftermath of the partition, still lingered. Now, many decades later, this South African slur is being actively replaced by the name makrut lime, a word derived from the thai name of the plant. Change in inevitable and when we change actively, to reduce hurt, it is a good thing.

The second harvest I wanted to write about is that of lemongrass. Earlier in the spring, I had started with a few store bought ones that had suggested rooting possibility. I had kept them in water first and only one had taken root. I had then transplanted it in the garden. That one pod gave birth to nearly two dozen. They grew lush, green and tall. A fellow enthusiast on youTube taught me how to handle them so I didn’t get cuts. I have since cleaned and frozen the tops and bottoms separately for consumption. I set some aside in a vase to root so they can be planted next spring.