Meyer lemons are to lemons as blood oranges are to oranges; seemingly similar, but ultimately very different. Just looking at them you can see it; Meyer lemons are smaller than their standard cousin, their piths are thinner, and their color has a bit of a orange tone—a hint at the flavor they hold.
They’re a seasonal citrus, usually making their debut in markets from late winter/early spring to late spring/early summer. Lately, I’ve written a few posts on very seasonal ingredients: rhubarb, ramps, California cherries, blood oranges (the latter going back some months). I’m all for seasonal eating, and not just because it’s a new-vogue trend of an age-old way of life; not only do foods taste better in their growing season (duh), but their costs aren’t quite as steep either, because they can typically be sourced more locally. I think the real pleasure in some of these ultra-seasonal offerings is that their availability is definitive; that’s to say, they’re truly available in their respective season exclusively, and totally unavailable outside of that. I touched on it a little regarding ramps in my SPRING CHICKEN recipe; some of what makes ramps so special is not necessarily in their taste, but rather that they’re the first edible produce available in early spring, and their availability is so fleeting. I like to think that I’d be as enthusiastic about rhubarb if I could find it year round, but I think the real fuel to my affinity towards it is that you have to greedily enjoy it before it’s gone again. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, if you will.
Now, I don’t think there’s much of a Meyer lemon industry in Connecticut, thanks to our winters, but nevertheless, they’re here. I almost let the season fly by me, but I did that with sunchokes and now I regret it. So, before they disappeared I grab some from the store. This ice cream was the perfect way to use them, but in retrospect I think they would have been a great substitute for the lemons in my Spring Chicken, too. I bet they’d be great in a Shaker’s Lemon Pie or roughly chopped and blended, skins and all, with sugar and water, and strained for lemonade, because their thinner piths mean less bitterness.
Their flavor is a combination of lemon and orange—they’re a hybrid of lemon and mandarin oranges. Notably less acidic than a true lemon by far, they have a slightly floral and herbal notes to them, especially in the zest. They’re sweeter, too; ultimately, they’re a combination of the floral flavor of orange zest, the sweetness of orange flesh, and the taste of a lemon, without the intense lip-puckering sourness. I accentuate that sweet herbal flavor a bit by adding thyme to the custard as well—just enough to add interest without becoming to savory and conjuring thoughts of roasted chicken.
The only other noteworthy mention is to make sure your ice cream maker’s base is TOTALLY frozen before you use it. I keep mine in the freezer at all times, but I would suggest putting it in 3 days before you plan on churning (of course, consult the instructions for your machine though).
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| Servings | Prep Time |
| 1 quart (4 - 8 servings, depending) | 15 minutes |
| Cook Time |
| 20 minutes |
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Meyer lemons taste like a cross between oranges and lemon. They're less acidic, sweeter, and have almost herbal and floral notes. These flavors are accentuated with fresh thyme for an ice cream that's both luscious and refreshing.
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- 7 egg yolks
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 4-1/2 t-spoons Meyer lemon zest (1 tablespoon, plus 1-1/2 t-spoons) (about 3 Meyer lemons)
- 1/3 cup Meyer lemon juice (about 2 Meyer lemons)
- 3 - 4 sprigs thyme
- 2 cups whole milk
- 1 cup heavy cream
- Small pinch kosher salt
- Zest 2 Meyer lemons right into a pot large enough to eventually cook the custard in (deep, and very wide—see note), enough to yield 1 tablespoon. Pour in the milk and cream, and place over medium heat to bring to a scalding point—it begins to steam and bubbles just begin to form on the sides of the pan.
- Throw in the sprigs of thyme, shut the heat off, and let it all steep for 30 minutes (don’t cover the pan).
- Once 30 minutes is up, bring the cream mix back to a scald while you whisk the egg yolks, sugar and salt together until thick, pale, and slightly voluminous—about 2 – 3 minutes.
- When the whisk is lifted out of the bowl, the yolks should fall off the whisk in an even, continuous ribbon.
- Now that the cream is scalding again, temper the eggs by whisking a ladles-worth of hot cream into the them. Do this a few times before pouring the rest of the cream into the yolks.
- Wipe the pan out and pour the custard mix back into it through a fine-mesh sieve, catching the bits of zest and thyme stems—don’t worry if a few leaves or flecks of zest pass through.
- Cook the custard over medium-low heat, stirring and scraping down the sides with a rubber spatula all the while, until it’s thick enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon, and when you run your finger across the spoon it stays divided—about 12 – 15 minutes.
- Pour it immediately through a fine mesh sieve set over a heatproof bowl to ensure that the final product comes out perfectly smooth. Whisk the Meyer lemon juice and remaining 1 ½ t-spoons of zest into the custard.
- Cover the custard with plastic wrap directly on the surface and let it cool to room temperature before moving to the fridge for at least 6 hours—it has to cool completely before you can even consider churning.
- Once it’s chilled, churn in your ice cream maker per its instructions. Transfer to a storage container and freeze a few hours, at least, before serving.
- Be sure to use a large, heavy bottomed pot to cook the custard in. The wider the pot, the greater the surface area, which means the custard will cook more evenly. It also means constant stirring, but it's all in the name of a perfect custard.
- If you've never made a custard before here is my little spiel on exactly how to do so:
First, grab a wooden spoon, rubber spatula, whisk and heatproof glass bowl. These are your new appendages. Where you go, they go… but you’re not going anywhere once that burner is back on under the custard. Don’t even try it. You might think you have enough time to answer the doorbell, let the dog out or make a cup of coffee while you cook the custard but its already one step ahead of you. It knows what you’re going to try and the second you step away from it – BOOM – sweet, creamy, scrambled eggs.I also advise you to follow Nigella Lawson’s instructions of filling your sink with cold water and ice so that, should the custard start to curdle as you cook it, you can plung the pot into the sink and whisk ferociously until the custard smoothens back out.
Turn the burner back onto medium-low and stir frequently and vigilantly, switching between the wooden spoon and rubber spatula to help scrape the sides and bottom of the pan and prevent any sticking.
Once it’s thickened and cooked, immediately pour out through a fine mesh sieve and into a heatproof glass bowl.