Making lemon curd is not as easy as SOME PEOPLE say. (They know who they are.) First of all, if you’re an unsuspecting bachelor-type guy, thinking people are hoping you recreate a dish or recipe they make and others rave about, beware. Assume whoever gives you a recipe has an agenda right from the start when they say, “Sure. It’s so easy to make. You can do it. Heh, heh, heh.” Prepare yourself, guys, for pain and suffering.
In the daunting task of making lemon curd, the recipes by the hundreds on the internet call only for sugar, butter, lemon juice and eggs. By themselves these ingredients seem so innocent and so gentle. They appear to be normal items, and perhaps by themselves, they would always be innocent, and nice and normal.
But, when combined, oh, what a deceptive combination. Easy on the outside, but full of lions and tigers on the inside – like the words “nitro” and “glycerine” when brought together. Heed my words now.
First of all, when they tell you, “Use the juice of 3 lemons”, that’s a bright red warning flag for ‘Danger! Trap ahead. Don’t go near here.’ Bells and whistles should be going off. You should hear dogs barking and howling outside. You might even feel the ground rumble under your feet. These should be early warning signs to you! Be very afraid!
What they haven’t told you is whether the lemons they’re talking about are slightly larger than a golf ball or if they’re the size of grapefruits. (Yes, they exist in Texas. Remember, everything is bigger in Texas- even this story.) Plus, they’re not telling you how to measure lemons already sliced up. So, be forewarned. There are dragons nearby. Big mean dragons with long pointy teeth.
And the dragon’s teeth come out when the recipes say, “Grate the lemon rind.” More horrible words I have never read. First, you can’t use an electric grinder on these even though no recipe ever comes out and says you can’t. I can truthfully say that some of my blood went into this dish. I know that’s a cringing thought, but it’s not as horrible as what happens when lemon juice gets on your scraped bleeding knuckles from trying to “GRATE THE LEMON RIND!!!” My poor cats ran away at this point and hid under whatever they could find. Screaming does that to cats. Lemon juice does that to scraped knuckles and fingers!
And what about the pulp?!?!?!?! What do I do with the pulp?!?!?!?!
And how long does it take before the lemon acid burning my fingers and knuckles will stop hurting? None of the recipes answer these questions! Why not?!
Next, when measuring sugar, make sure you have what must be an actual real measuring cup. Guestimating from an enormous coffee cup that says “Man-size” on it is not going to work. One cup of coffee in this does not equal one cup of sugar… apparently.
And another thing, do not use dark brown sugar if you’ve run out of white sugar. Unless you want a dark brown final result. This will not look anything like lemons. There will be no “yellow” look to it, which apparently is extremely important to actual people when it comes time to consider eating it. (As written below, no one eats dark brown anything that’s supposed to be ‘lemony.’)
Fourth, beating eggs together is easy enough – NOT! It’s easy like an eye of a hurricane and a drill is not a good substitute for an egg beater. But again they don’t tell you that, or when to add the eggs or other different ingredients to the pot. If they didn’t tell you about melting large sticks of butter, then you can begin having that sinking feeling at this moment. (Oh, the red flags. Start drinking heavily at this point.)
All recipes then say mix all the ingredients together in a pot and stir until thick. What does that mean???!!!??? How thick? What is thick? How does it get thick? Why is the butter still in solid bricks? Are the eggs supposed to be doing this?!?!? Should there really be so much lemon juice?
Oh, the humanity. Oh, the mess in the kitchen. Oh, my scraped knuckles and fingers on fire. Oh, my acid burned mouth from tastings.
My advice to myself in the past (and to anyone else if you’re trying this and have ignored my earlier warnings to ‘don’t go there’) is stir until your arm stops working. I wish I had known that “thick” to one unsuspecting person isn’t even close to thick to someone who you hope might one day eat some of what you’re trying to make.
The recipes were very creative in what containers to use, and one even mentioned “a pie shell”?!?!?!?!?! I was still lost in my oblivion when I figured the frig should finish the job of solidifying it. Looking back, it was an act of the purist optimism to think this thought in the first place – optimism that was only shattered when it was time to take the dark brown lemon liquid curd pie out of the frig and take it to the holiday gathering.
A word to the wise – when the mixture is sliding around in the “pie shell”?!?!?!?! while you’re carrying it into the gathering from the vehicle, hoping that no one will notice, hoping they’ll just absent-mindedly try it (yeah, right) and hoping it will actually be enjoyed by someone, remember, it’s not your fault that no where in any recipes did it say, “Hide it in the back of the desserts area.” This is simply the “traps” unfolding. Because, at the end when it’s all over, with it sitting on the counter with the other desserts, and it comes to the end of the meal, don’t be surprised when normal people shun it at the table. No one will go near it. (Is it really this bad? Why do you think all my warnings are here in place?!)
Finally, you’ll be taking it home to eat it all by yourself for weeks and weeks on end thinking ‘it’s not that bad’ (the first few days only) knowing that you’ve been had. Lesson coming now: When someone gets raves about their recipe, don’t believe that they will ever give it out, even if it only has 4 ingredients. Accept doom and defeat like a man.
Now, is all this true? Did I really do this? Uhmmmm. Nyaaa. Of course not. It’s only a make believe holiday story.
And I’m only typing this because my fingers and knuckles have stopped burning and my skinless lips are not useable for speaking for several weeks.
Jodie, the Innkeeper
PS. Honest, the recipe looked so innocent. In the mirror, I look so naive.