To me, a lemon is a basic kitchen ingredient, just as garlic is, or herbs, spices, salt and pepper. More often than not, lemon is a part of something else, say zest as an element in a rub, or juice as an ingredient in a salsa; but now and then we make a hero of the lemon, like when we preserve them the Moroccan way, or when we make a simple lemon tart or lemon sorbet.

One of the reasons I love a lemon is its versatility. A lemon can go either way; it’s the swinger of the low-hanging fruit world, the creepy guy at the bar flirting with everything in sight. If a lemon could speak and had a chat-up line, it could well be, “I’m anyone’s.”

I had been working up to a long, chatty foray into the world of Moroccan cuisine, but sadly have been indisposed by a not entirely pleasant bout of double pneumonia. So, from my hospital bed, between meals of comforting hospital food – they’re served with a little card with a food quote on them, one of them I’ve used for the quote at the top of this week’s newsletter – here’s a recipe for preserving lemons, and I plan to use them in the Moroccan column just as soon as I’m home and better.

Preserved Lemons

4 or 5 lemons per Consul jar, depending on their size

1 Tbs coarse salt per lemon, plus 4 to 8 Tbs extra per jar

Lemon juice to fill jars three-quarters full

Boiling water to top up the jars

Fill a big, heavy pot with water and bring to a vigorous boil. Remove lids from sturdy Consul jars or similar and place jars and lids in the water, using tongs. Have a clean tray to hand covered with a clean tea towel. Once sterilised, remove each jar with tongs, empty remaining water over the pot, and place on the tray, open side up so the water can evaporate. The heat of the glass will evaporate residual water. Do the same with the inner and outer lids.

If the lemons are shop-bought and waxy, scrub the skins lightly with a clean kitchen scourer. Just lightly, don’t inadvertently zest them. If picked from a tree, just rinse and dry.

With a sharp knife, cut through each lemon from the stem side almost to the base, but leave the base intact so that the lemon remains in one piece. Do this again to make a cross almost all the way through the lemon.

Holding a lemon in one hand, pour in a tablespoon of salt, close it and place at the bottom of a jar. Pour a tablespoon or two of salt between each layer, repeating until the jar is full. Pour in enough lemon juice to fill the jar three-quarters full, and top up with boiling water, leaving a meniscus (that’s the convex liquid at the top). Remove the peel from extra lemons and place the peel skin-side up at the top of each jar. This is because harmless white mould may appear and the peel should collect it so it can be removed and thrown away.

Place the inner lid on and twist it tight. Liquid will overflow, and that is good, because it means you are not trapping air inside.

Cool, and store in a dark place, such as a kitchen cupboard, for two weeks, turning every few days to unsettle the salt. They can be kept for six or even 12 months if not opened (many experts say they will keep for much longer).

Lemon Fridge Tart

Betty Jackman’s old-school Lemon Fridge Tart, from her son Tony Jackman’s book, foodSTUFF. Photo by Myburgh Du Plessis, styled by Sarah Dahl. (Human & Rousseau)

This recipe was my late mother Betty’s. It’s rather strange for me to be in the hospital she was in in 1968 with double pneumonia – and I’m there now with the same. At times like this, apart from chicken soup, you also think of your mum. And her recipes.

1 packet Tennis Biscuits

125g melted butter

1 can condensed milk

2 lemons, juice of

Grated zest of 1 lemon (not the rind)

120ml fresh cream

Crumble the biscuits into a bowl and stir in the melted butter. Grease a glass or ceramic pie dish with butter. Add the crumble and pat down evenly at the bottom and up the sides. Pop in the fridge for half an hour for the butter to set the base.

Whip together the condensed milk, lemon juice, lemon zest and cream. Pour into the biscuit base and set in the fridge for a good five hours.

Oh, all right: and here’ a chicken soup recipe from Australian eye-candy chef Curtis Stone.

Bon appetit, and get well soon if, like your TGIFood Editor, you find yourself a tad poorly. DM