I think I must have brought this back with me from some recent psychadelic adventure. I really can’t imagine that these things have existed my whole life, lurking in grocery stores and citrus groves, quietly waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Have you ever wondered what would happen if a squid, or perhaps an octopus or cuttlefish, were to fall in love with a lemon, get a nice place together out in the suburbs, and start raising children? I will tell you what would happen. This would happen:
Unfortunately I neglected to get a picture of the beast before we started cutting it up. It started out with more of a head below all the tenticals, almost shaped like the top half of a lemon, but bigger. The lime is, um, to give you a sense of scale. The thing has no pulp. It’s all skin and that white stuff that goes between a lemon’s outside and it’s jucy bits. The skin is quite full of zest, making it just about the most perfect fruit for people who like their martini’s with a twist. It also makes the whole room smell lemon fresh.
I was so enamoured by this thing when it randomly appeared in my kitchen that I immediatly had to consult the Internet regarding its existance. Turns out they are not the product of some genetic engineering lab coctail party conversation, and are indeed thought to be among the oldest of all citrus fruits, and they are generally thought to be the first citrus fruit to be introduced to Europe. Behold, the wikipedias.
And of course, like everything else in the world, someone on the Internet will sell you these things. Or, rather, they will sell you the trees. Greenhouse store in Connecticut. $10 each. I got three:
Apparently, it is possible to bonsai them. I have never bonsaied anything before, nor have I ever been particularly motivated to do so, but the idea of an adorable little squid lemon tree with adorable little miniature squid lemons growing on it delights me to no end, so one of these three is destin for smallness.
