Du Soleil Dans Un Verre

So my housemate C scored a bunch of free lemons from her work and brought them home, where they have lingered on the counter being chubby, yellow, and tempting for the last week. I am currently fixated on all things yellow, specifically because I bought the first season (first half of the first season? Whatever,) of Glee, and there's one episode where they sing "Walking on Sunshine" (and some other song by Beyonce or someone) while dancing around in adorable bright yellow dresses. Now, of course everyone who's ever met my mother knows that "Walking on Sunshine" was my favorite song when I was 5, and so I was an easy sell.  Glee, season 1, episode 6 My newfound interest in the color yellow has naturally lead to a newfound interest in things that are yellow, specifically lemons and all the wonderful things lemons can be made into, which, given my equally passionate love of strong drink led me directly to Limoncello. I have never had Limoncello. I am not certain how I landed upon Limoncello, but damn it, if the universe has planted the idea of Limoncello in my head and then handed me all the ingredients to make it, namely lemons and a half drunk handle of vodka someone left at the house after a party, who am I to argue?  

I am therefore documenting my Limoncello progress here for you, all five of my internet friends including both my housemates and my sister (Hey guys! Hey!) to follow along. Now with pictures, and, if you're my housemates, if you read this in the kitchen it's also in Smell-O-Vision.  

 

The Ingredients: 

As you can see from the picture on the top, I have a) messy countertops, b) a plethora of lemons, and c) a seriously wry sense of humor if you're familiar with the photographic component of most lush food photo shoot on internet food communities. Wry, I tell you, not poorly lit and executed.  

-What I have is 6 lemons that I have washed in hot water with a little dish soap and then I scrubbed them under warm running water with the scrubby side of a sponge to try to get off most of the wax and poison which I am sure lurks in every citrusy pore.  

- I also have half a 1.75 liter bottle of 80 proof vodka. Most Limoncello recipes call for Everclear, but I am relatively certain that Everclear is not available in Virginia and that it leads to severe post-imbibing gustatory distress (in that it makes me bonanza barf until I see stars and pink elephants circle my head mockingly). Also, the vodka was free, which is the best price anything can be.  

-I bought a 1 gallon glass jar from the World Market, which I was going to sanitize in the dishwasher, but that meant I would need to empty out the dish washer, fill it with dirty dishes, and then run the damned thing, so instead I washed it with soap and very hot water and then dried it with a clean dish cloth prior to use.  

-And I have one useless and purely artistic sprig of lavender, which will not be used in today's adventure.  

The Zesting: Using an only slightly broken microplane I zested all six lemons on to a piece of waxed paper, trying hard to not zest the pith, which will allegedly make the Limoncello bitter, or my fingers, which will make the Limoncello pink and um...gross. All that zesting resulted in a lightly lemon-scented person and a whole lot of zest. Now I have naked lemons.  

The Mixing: Once I got my truely awesome mountain of zest together, I needed to get on to the internet to do some really pointless math because I was having a (as my mother calls it) dyslexia attack and couldn't figure out how many milliliters were in a liter. 1000, apparently. Oops. All the recipes I had called for 2 750 ml bottles of booze and an obscene number of lemons (12-14), while I had half of a 1.75 l bottle of vodka and 6 lemons. An embarrassingly long time later I just dumped all the vodka I had into the jar with the lemon zest. Math. It's slippery when wet.  

That empty bottle looks like I have a serious problem. It might not be wrong.  

The Labeling:

Everyone knows that clear and cogent labeling is the most important step in any experiment. Here I have labelled the big jar of lemony, vodka-y goodness with the name, stage of processing, and date, after putting a piece of plastic wrap over the mouth of the jar and tightening the lid as tightly as my carpal tunnel will allow. I hope I got the jar clean enough and it doesn't go all Ka-Blewy! because there was some stray wild yeast or something...I don't really know how this all works. The internet said tighten the lid and so, I obey.

The Storing:

And now, for my least favorite step, I must store it away in a cool dark place when the only interaction I can have with it for the next 2 to 4 weeks is to gaze at it wistfully, and occasionally give it a light shake-ah shake-ah to encourage the zest to give up their oils. I have loving tucked the jar away next to the flour and coffee in a corner of the kitchen counter. And now all I can do is wait. And make lemonade with all those poor naked lemons.  

Thanks for coming with my on this fabulous Limoncello adventure. Stay tuned for Stage 2: Making and Adding Simple Syrup. Until next time, go listen to I'm Walking on Sunshine and dance around like a dork. It's therapeutic. I'm Walking on Sunshine, by Katrina and the Waves