Lemons and their practical use: Eating (Gourmet & Speciality Foods in general)

Member Name: mpafp

Product:	Gourmet & Speciality Foods in general
Date:	18/01/02 (90 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Image-enhancement, Street-cred, Mmmm, tasty

Disadvantages: Few sympathisers, Can be habit-forming

I haven’t written my practical guide to what else you can do with lemons yet, but I know you are all on the edge of your seats to find out. I will just have to keep you in suspense a little longer, as their oral consumption seems to me to be their primary function at least.

If you have read my piece entitled ‘Bitter chocolate, Comrade Guevara’ you may be under the impression that I tend to romanticise foodstuffs, and that, in particular, I consider dark chocolate and lemons to be a ‘glamorous left-wing’ revolutionary’s meal. Though I stand by my convictions, I do not eat lemons primarily to create the myth that I am an exciting, exotic communist. I eat them because they are God’s most thoughtful gift to mankind.

Perhaps, if you are youthful like my self, you will remember various ‘sour sweets’ from your recent childhood, ‘nuclear warheads’ being a market-leader. Such products were, and still are, marketed as ‘super sour’, ‘eye-watering’, ‘brain-popping’, ‘coma-inducing’ etc., but are they? Are they bollocks.
‘Nuclear warheads’ even have a chart on the back to show how manly you are depending on how long you can keep it in your mouth. Manly my arse.

I scorn such things. These artificially manufactured ‘sour’ sweets are beneath me. I stop bravado-filled 7-year-olds in the street, take three of their poxy sweets and pop them in my mouth while they gather round with astonished admiration. They think I am some sort of superman. It is a useful confidence-builder.

The reason for my taste buds of steel is that I am a lemon-eater. That is just above fire-eater on the cool scale. The buzz I get out of biting into a good, sour lemon is akin to that of a paranormal-phenomena-enthusiast on witnessing a ghost-train, filled with captive three-eyed aliens
being whipped into shape by Lord Lucan and serenaded by Elvis, as they are driven into his kitchen backwards by Louis XIV of France, who then reveals that he shot Kennedy then says he has to go and give birth to Jesus, steps into a time machine and disappears whilst visibly transforming into a woman while it rains frogs.

Why few people share my passion, I do not know. I do not ask for understanding; I do not ask for forgiving; I just ask that you go and read all my opinions, and tell everyone else you know to do so, and I’ll use the cash to fuel my lemon habit and have a few moments of ecstasy on the path to my own downfall.

For any who do share my passion (and not those pussies who use lemons for slicing and sticking in your drinks), I would recommend the Primofiori Spanish lemons I got in Waitrose. They are just the right size to clasp protectively in your hand, smell gorgeous, and have a strong sour taste with a rich, fruity bouquet and minimal tannin.

Brave lemon-eaters of Britain, I salute you!

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