Limoncello: The Obsession

Becoming easily obsessed with things can be perceived by others as a somewhat negative personality trait—especially when the consequences include, not only the relentless pursuit of petty knowledge, but also the financial commitment necessary to go overboard in acquiring the various accoutrement “required” to execute certain ridiculous notions.

Such happened when casually perusing the “Limoncello” thread several months ago in the eGullet Spirits & Cocktails forum. Being fairly new to my latest obsession of classic cocktails and the general ‘coolness’ of distilled booze, I of course had to start planning my first batch of the infused libation native to the Mediterranean coast of Italy.

The lemons that are grown around the town of Amalfi, in the Salerno region of Italy, are attributed to being among the first to be used in the making of limoncello. G.B. Ferrari, a 17^th Century botanist, recorded the qualities of the local lemons in 1646, writing “The nipple is prominent, the rind is rough, pleasantly scented with a sweet taste, the flesh has 8 or 9 segments, the taste is pleasantly sour.” Wait are we talking about lemons or women? G.B. Ferrari sounds like a perv to me.

After more research concerning the special characteristics of these famous lemons from Italy, I was soon accepting the fact that I needed to acquire some in order to see what all of the fuss was about. As any good follower of Jeffrey Steingarten, I began an exhaustive search trying to procure a dozen or two Amalfi Coast lemons—starting threads on eGullet, making phone calls, even visiting a gelato shop in Houston and begging the owner to let me piggy back on his next order. After my begging turned up less fruitful than any of my methods, I found out that his lemons came from Sicily anyway. Um. Ew.

One of my ideas was to get a cutting from Italy…somehow. Besides the fact that I wouldn’t have made any friends with the U.S. Department of Agriculture, I soon realized this would have been a nearly impossible and ridiculous feat. More research though, turned up a source in California for Italian lemons. A phone call ensued to figure out the story on what I assumed MUST be false advertising.

California Citrus Specialties, located in Springville, California (just East of “the” 99, halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco), does just what their name implies. They grow all of the crazy citrus that not many other U.S. commercial producers grow. They sell different types of blood oranges, citrons, bergamots and not one, but SIX different varieties of Italian and Spanish lemons. While talking to these guys on the phone, they informed me that they acquired some cuttings and seeds a few years ago from the famed coast of Italy and had UCLA run tests on them to make sure they were safe to plant in the U.S. After more variety research, I realized that the Sicilian lemons which I snubbed earlier were equally as sought-after for making limoncello as my Amalfi lemons. Not one to give up easily, but realizing when I had been beat, I promptly placed my order for a bushel of Feminello St. Teresa lemons. The response to my naivety went something like, “It is June, I would love to send you some now, but they won’t be ripe until January or February of 2008.” I figured that if I was willing to wait several years for a cutting to start producing lemons, then I could wait six months for existing fruit to go ahead and ripen.

December rolls around and I realize what a cruel joke it is that all of the bright, summer-tasting citrus actually ripens and is at its peak during the dead of winter. This obviously wouldn’t deter me for there was limoncello to be made! In late December I phoned CCS and inquired about the lemon harvest. The lady said they were still a couple of weeks out, but took all of my information anyway. She informed me that she would ship a bushel as soon as they started harvest.

Within three weeks I had more lemons than I knew what to do with. This Feminello St. Teresa variety held true to the description of our 17^th century botanist, with the prominent errrr, nipple and rough rind. The lemons also had an unusually high oil content when compared to the typical lemons found in our supermarkets in Houston. They tasted quite different as well. They were obviously sour, like we are used to, but they had a brighter and less bitter acidity than the Eureka’s or Lisbon’s that are readily available.

So now…what to do with all of these lemons (nearly 60)? Start with the limoncello, of course. There were several decisions to be made. Obviously we needed a neutral spirit to begin the infusion. Grappa, being a native to Italy as well, seemed like an obvious choice, but not knowing as much about the spirit as I would like to (on top of some of the premium price tags), I decided that I should loosely follow a well-received recipe from the eGullet forum, graciously posted by Katie Loeb of Chick’s Café & Wine Bar in Philly.

Since we had this incredible abundance of lemons, my wife and I ended up making a double batch. We started off with the zest from 26 lemons which were micro-planed and added to two bottles of 100-proof Smirnoff Vodka. Since these two 100-proof bottle-infusions would be cut with two bottles of 80-proof vodka (Tito’s Brand Vodka from Austin, Texas. We try to do the local thing too, Anita). I decided to take the zest of another dozen lemons and macerate it in one of the 80-proof bottles. In the end, I didn’t want to dilute the lemon flavor with un-infused vodka.

After a month of infusion, we were to ready finish the product and bring it down to 60-ish proof. Not being a fan of overly sweet and viscous liqueurs, I wanted to be careful when adding the simple syrup. After combining the infusions and carefully straining out the zest, we made a boiled 2:1 simple syrup. After it cooled we began slowly adding it, tasting as we went. We had a general idea of how much to dilute it in order to keep the final product above 60-proof. Once near the desired sweetness, we added a small amount of water to take edge off of the alcohol burn.

After chilling in the freezer for a few hours, the final product turned out to be quite amazing. Obviously, it is not acidic because only the oil was infused into the vodka, but the lemon flavor was so strong and unadulterated that it almost seemed fake. Having gone through nearly two 750ml bottles of limoncello in the last month and a half, it seems to be a hit around the house with friends and family.

Of course, one might expect the obsession to be over right? Riiiiiiight. This was the first attempt. A week later I found myself in Central Market, pathetically staring at some beautiful Heirloom Navel Oranges, and remembering that I had an unopened bottle of Martinique Clement Premiere Canne Rhum in my cabinet. Having been inspired two-fold, by the orange liqueur from the same maker and the fact that I was nearly at the end of my bottle of Creole Clement, I decided to try my had at replicating it. The final product captured every bit of the brightness that was those oranges and I’m no longer sad about running out of the “bought” stuff.

Where is the only reasonable place to go from here you might ask? Growing my own citrus, obviously. I mean, we live in Houston, one of THE perfect and under-utilized environment for growing citrus. This time of year, a quick trip to any nursery in the area will turn up a large variety of citrus trees (Satsumas, Blood Oranges, Navel & Cara Cara Oranges, Kaffir Limes, Key Limes, Grapefruit, Limequats, Kumquats, Lemons, etc.), that if lovingly planted and cared for, could yield some sort of citrus all year round. Don’t they all say that local is better?