As a boy in Morocco, Mourad Lahlou, the chef and owner of the restaurants Mourad and Aziza in San Francisco, was sometimes tasked with fetching a preserved lemon from a dark stairwell, where the big clay pots of fermenting citrus were stored. Frightened by the intimidating space, he would shove his arm into a pot, grab a lemon and run back down the stairs as fast as he could.
It may have been scary, but, now 55, Mr. Lahlou waxes poetic about preserved lemons. “The taste, or rather the sensation of a preserved lemon is indescribable,” he said.
A staple of Moroccan cooking, preserved lemon is used in Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, South and East Asian dishes, lending a sharp zing and depth infinitely more intriguing than fresh lemon juice.
Ayesha Nurdjaja, the chef and partner at Shukette and Shuka in New York, calls preserved lemons a kind of get-out-of-jail pantry ingredient. At her restaurants, she combines them with fresh herbs, as a condiment for kebabs or crudo and, at home, as the star of a quick marinade for shrimp or chicken. She even uses the lemon in cocktails.
You can buy jars of ready-made preserved lemon in the international aisle of most grocery stores. But, for the price and quality, homemade preserved lemons can’t be beat. All you need are lemons, salt and time. Lemons are scrubbed, cut open with the one end left intact, then salted generously and squeezed into a tight jar and left to sit for at least a few weeks, until soft and potent. Once they’re ready, Mr. Lahlou suggests discarding the seeds, separating the pulp and rind, and storing them separately in olive oil. The rind can be chopped and used anywhere that you want a bright, strong flavor — like an earthy potato salad, a fresh couscous salad or braised chicken thighs.
The pulp is a bit milder and will melt nicely into a beef stew or add a pleasantly salty-sour punch to red lentil soup, while the liquid can be used in subsequent batches of preserved lemons. Or use the brine in place of vinegar and salt for a special shallot vinaigrette.
Preserved lemons should last in the fridge for at least six months to a year if not longer, intensifying in flavor the longer they sit. So taste them before use. And make sure they stay fully submerged in their liquid, checking for any signs of mold. (A little discoloration is fine, but mold indicates it’s time to throw them out.)
No need to rinse any of the lemon before using it, whether plucked from olive oil or straight from the brine. Simply adjust the added salt in the dish accordingly. A little goes a long way so start with a tablespoon here and there until you get a feel for it. And then play around with it, taste and add more.
