My Brother Has A Thing for Lemons
October 15, 2004
My brother has a thing for lemons. I’m thirty five years old. My brother is seven years older than me. Still, only just this morning have I’ve realized that I think Kevin has a thing for lemons. I’m sure it’s not really that unusual. I think the lemon is actually a remarkable fruit, and I’m sure many people are somewhat enamored with it. Beautiful in appearance, yet sour in taste. It’s used in so many ways, from zesting the peel, to squeezing the juice, to preserving the fruit whole. A lemon can change the flavor of other foods, brighten up a dish, counteract saltiness, or add its own flavor prominently; it can take center stage or play a great supporting role. It can even just look good on the side of your plate!
I don’t think I had an appreciation for the lemon as early as did my brother. There are two particular food incidents involving lemons that recurred throughout our childhood, and these have been the clues to my revelation this morning.
On those occasions that my mother made pancakes for my brother and me (and my mother made mean pancakes with moist interiors and crispy edges, always from scratch – in fact I never knew pancake mixes existed until I reached university), Kevin and I would prepare our plates in very different ways, in typical Kevin-and-I-fashion. I went with the traditional and very Canadian preparation of butter and maple syrup. I couldn’t veer from this. Doing something different to just one pancake would mean missing out on the maple syrup for that one pancake. I couldn’t do it. Kevin moved in a different direction when it came to pancake preparation. I watched him every time with fascination. How could he not go with the maple syrup? He would first sprinkle sugar over every warm pancake. The moisture from the pancakes would absorb a little of the sugar, but with the amount of sugar that Kevin used, even the warmest pancake couldn’t absorb all of it. Then he would squeeze fresh lemon juice over the entire surfaces of his pancakes. This would dissolve the sugar and he ended up with a sweet, moist and lemon-y breakfast that in reality is rather like a deconstructed lemon pound cake. I did try it once. It was bright, sweet and fresh, but it wasn’t breakfast to me and I missed my maple syrup!
The other lemon obsession Kevin had always came around on his birthday. Where I couldn’t possibly imagine a birthday without the most chocolate-y of chocolate birthday cakes, Kevin always wanted a lemon meringue pie. What was that?! What kind of a birthday cake is lemon meringue pie?! To this day, I have never heard of anyone, man, woman or child, who wanted lemon meringue pie instead of a proper cake for their birthday. The most upsetting thing of all was that I didn’t like lemon meringue pie, and with only one brother and no sisters, Kevin was my only hope all year long for a second birthday cake. My last chance, and he chose lemon meringue pie! It was the meringue that got to me. A pie is not chocolate, but it’ll do in a pinch - I like pastry. The lemon curd is acceptable - smooth and flavourful, I quite liked lemon curd. It was the meringue that sent me over the edge. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to put that on top of perfectly good lemon curd. It’s true my mother made it look so very beautiful, with lightly browned wavy tips, but it wasn’t just for looking at. We were supposed to eat it too, and it just did nothing for me. I’ve never been one to leave anything on my plate (my own personal curse), so leaving the meringue behind was not an option for me. It was all or nothing, and on most, not all, but most of Kevin’s birthdays, I went with nothing.
It has always been clear that my brother and I differ in almost every way. This is yet another example of that. We’ve always chosen different paths, and food has been no exception. They say that your taste buds change with age. Children love sweets, while adults develop a greater appreciation for sour flavours. I still love maple syrup on pancakes and chocolate cake for my birthday, but I do have an appreciation for the lemon now. I guess Kevin was just those critical seven years ahead of me, or perhaps he’s always been ahead of his time.