Far beyond lemonade

Popular vocabulary often associates the good things in life with what is sweet. One of the most unfairly treated fruits in this conception, I think, is a very old and everyday fruit. I'm talking about the lemon. The lemon originated in Asia, somewhere between northeastern India and southern China, where its wild ancestors, such as the citron and lime, had already been cultivated for over 2,000 years. These yellow and fragrant ancestors were the first to migrate from Persia to Europe. Their oldest traces on the continent were found in the Roman Forum and date from the beginning of the Christian era. Seeds and pollen have also been found in regions where there were wealthy homes with gardens, suggesting that it was initially an ornamental plant. The lemon as we know it today (a hybrid of citron with lime or sour orange, it's not entirely clear) took longer to develop and spread. It traveled with Arab caravans to the Mediterranean and only began to be cultivated in the 15th century in Italy. It was still mainly ornamental, but its medicinal properties were already known in the East. Columbus took it in his ships to Spanish America, and from there it reached our lands. Throughout these journeys, crossbreeding with other citrus fruits resulted in different subtypes. In Brazil, we know descendants of the original lemon – the Galician and Sicilian lemons, fragrant, with thick yellow peels. One variety even seems local, so well adapted is it – the pink lemon (or clove lemon), sweet. The most common, however, is the Tahiti lime or green lemon, of more recent origin, in 19th-century California. Technically, it is a lime, which explains why in English it is called a "lime" – "lemons" are yellow. Despite so many variations, one characteristic has remained almost unanimous in the popular imagination: because of its sourness, the lemon is associated with hardship. In Portugal, they say: "From the orange, what you want; from the lime, what you can; from the lemon, what you have." In other words, be satisfied if you get something from that fruit. More pragmatically, the Anglo-Saxons use it as a metaphor for overcoming adversity: "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade." But it's worth emphasizing: even for them, you need ingenuity (and sugar) to make something good with that raw material. However, the sour juice retains its best qualities. The best known is vitamin C, ascorbic acid, so important for health. Citric acid gives lemon a magical touch: it breaks down collagen fibers, tenderizing meats. Now, if left for too long, the result is the opposite, as the acids end up drawing water from the cells. This is, incidentally, how raw fish is "cooked" in ceviches. The acidity of lemons makes them a kind of "conductor," orchestrating the other flavors in food. Some cuisines know this very well – in Mexico, for example, it's widely used in sauces and marinades, and lemon is squeezed onto everything: fruits, tacos, soups. In Italy, combined with a few ingredients, it fills risottos and pasta dishes with contrasts. In my recipes, I explore its versatility. It enhances the sweetness of light recipes, such as creams, puddings, and pies, and highlights savory dishes like Indian-inspired basmati rice and healthy cheese pastries.

As you can see, it's possible to go far beyond lemonade. Instead of going against the nature of the lemon, simply value it for what it is: a rich source of health and flavor.