A few months back, I started on a long-term experiment: creating my very own Limoncello. It was a small project that required a bit of effort, commitment and worst of all, patience.
You might remember: the recipe came in 2 parts. The first part involved adding lemon peels to vodka, and letting the solution sit for 6 weeks. A few weeks ago, I opened the Limoncello bottle and added another load of vodka and syrup, grudgingly sealed it up and commenced phase 2: The Waiting Strikes Back.
The original method called for me to bide my time for another 6 weeks. Add it all up, and the whole process would take about 3 months.
3. Whole. Months.
It was almost like picking a scab; the urge to bottle the Limoncello-in-making got stronger every time I swirled it in its glassy prison. That never-ending, constantly nagging itch. It got unbearable.
So, naturally I cheated.
It’s only been 5 weeks since I added the syrup, but I unsealed the huge glass jar I used for the infusion anyway. I had to (hastily) run the finished product through a filter to remove the sediments (there wasn’t all that much), and bottle it.
Voila.
While I’m usually a visual person, the first thing I really took note of was the zesty lemon fragrance emanating from the limoncello. There was a bit of spicy earthiness present, which declared in no uncertain terms that this was no mere lemonade. The smell of freshly cut grass in the garden was a perfect complement, filling the mind with images of a summer stroll through the park.
I wished that I was just as pleased with the colour. Sadly, while it was a pleasant pale gold reminiscent of champagne, I was hoping for a deeper, cheerier shade of yellow to brighten up the day. As it was, it seemed a little anaemic to me.
Fortunately, the taste redeemed 12 weeks (almost) of effort. It was pleasantly citrus-y and even slightly spicy without the normal sourness and bitterness of commercial lemon drinks. I found myself thinking wow, so that’s what lemon really tastes like. It was a bit too sweet though; I’ll be sure to cut down the syrup by about 20 to 30 percent the next time.
Traditionally, ice-cold limoncello is enjoyed neat as a digestif, but I wanted to experiment a little.
First, I tried a little cocktail of my own: Limoncello Spritz, which borrows a lot from the classic Tom Collins and a classic Italian soda. I substituted the gin in a Tom Collins for vodka and the usual fresh lemon juice for limoncello, and garnished with a few sprigs of thyme.
Limoncello Spritz:
90ml Limoncello
45ml Vodka
230ml Tonic Water
2 sprigs thyme to garnish
Add the limoncello, vodka and ice to a mixing glass and stir well. Strain the liquor into a tall glass and top up with tonic water. Garnish with thyme.
Refreshing and light, the taste of the tonic water balanced out the sweetness of the limoncello. A fine drink to watch the world go by or enjoy with dinner.
The other is a traditional Italian variation on limoncello. A bit more rustic than the Limoncello Spritz, the Crema di Limoncello originates in Sicily. While this milky concoction shares the birthplace of the mafia, the most horrible after-effect that you’ll get from it is a mild hangover.
Crema di Limoncello:
45ml Limoncello
150ml Fresh Milk
Whisk the milk until it achieves the consistency of cream. Add the limoncello to the milk and stir. Serve chilled.
I must admit, I prefer the Crema to the Spritzer. It reminds me of a nice lemon tart that finishes off a hearty dinner in an unpretentious fashion. Tasty.
With an abundance of limoncello just begging to be used, I’ll be sure to continue experimenting with different cocktails. Want to make your own version? Just consult my recipe. For a quick twist on the original, you use different citrus fruits such as orange or buddha’s hand as the base fruit (Orangello? Buddhacello?). It’s simple and fun, if you can muster the patience to wait out a few months while it matures.
Let me assure you, it’s totally worth the wait.
