Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Lip puckering Lime Cordial


Last week, a bag of limes I bought to use as July 4th decor was ripening too fast. It bothers me to waste food (even though a healthy compost pile means nothing really goes to waste),  so I tossed up between making marmalade or cordial with them. Our temperatures were hitting the 100s,  so lime cordial won hands down.

I made my first cordials earlier this year, after being inspired by a sublime granadilla (aka passion fruit) cordial I tasted in Cape Town. I came home to Marin and made an orange-passion fruit one that was amazing.  That was followed by a cordial using the Rangpur Limes we grow (see earlier post!). Both times I winged it and wrote nothing down. This time around I decided to make some notes, so that I have something to work with next time.

Uses? Many:

non alcoholic, refreshing - diluted with seltzer, on ice, a wedge of lime
a little bit of mexico - over ice, with tequila, a squeeze of fresh lime, a dash of seltzer


There are many ways to make a cordial, the nice thing about a citrus cordial is that you don't have to add any preserving agents. The natural acidity of the fruit keeps things fresh, so you don't need any fancy ingredients. This version is sour and limey, use fewer limes if you like it sweeter and more if you like it even more lip-puckering:

750g sugar
750ml water
20 limes

Heat the water and sugar in a pan until the sugar melts. Squeeze the limes and include thin slivers of peel (from maybe 4- 6 of them - you decide!) while the sugar melts. Once the sugar mix has cooled a little, add the lime mix to it. Use liberally. Store in the refrigerator.

My cordial looks orange  because I used a few late season Rangpur limes and an organic sugar which had a goldenish hue. My guess is using only bright green limes and pure white sugar will produce a greener cordial but who cares, since the color may be orange but the taste is pure limey goodness!


Not quite lost but still found.

I was about to clear a CF card yesterday when I found tucked in to the very end of it, a few photos that I had forgotten all about. The images brought the sweet surprise that photos of forgotten moments always bring. The one I loved most was taken in a hurry, in the midst of a day of hard, garden-work. I stopped to pick Favas and Artichokes for dinner and took them in to the kitchen. I placed them next to the Robin's egg we had found earlier and was struck by the shapes, textures and  intensity of colours in front of me.

Today, the garden has already moved on to it's warmer, summer crops. Fava beans and Artichokes are a sweet memory of spring, but the Robin's egg still sits on my kitchen counter.