Betty Teller

Every year about this time, I get the suspicion that I’ve been burgled. Entire weeks seem to be missing. Halloween came, two days later we ate turkey, and then calendar pages flew past like a movie montage and suddenly Christmas is looming.

Every year I plan to get a head start — and then I look up and it’s practically upon me and I haven’t even begun.

This year, I vowed it would be different.

I woke up on Dec. 4 humming Christmas carols. “Three weeks.” I said to myself. “That’s plenty of time to get organized.”

With all those days stretching luxuriously in front of me, I decided to make gifts from the kitchen. Sure, there are zillions of beautifully packaged goodies I could buy (like every other year, when I run out of time). But homemade is so much more meaningful.

I thought about what to make.

Cookies? Everyone bakes this time of year. I wanted to do something different. Besides, with the glut of treats we all make and receive, I wanted to give something that didn’t have to be consumed immediately.

Fruitcakes? No worry about freshness with them: Those doorstops will probably be here long after civilization as we know it has disappeared. Personally, I detest the stuff. (Those strangely textured, oddly colored bits that are supposedly fruit – ugh.) But some folks love it, so in the seasonal spirit of thinking about others, I looked up a recipe. I was relieved, though, to discover I was starting too late. Fruitcake needs a month or more to age, time it spends lying around being sprinkled frequently with rum. (Not a bad way to age, come to think of it.)

So no fruitcake (phew!). But what about liqueurs? I still had ripe lemons from last year on my tree that I should have done something with months ago. Limoncello would be great. I went out and picked a big bowl of fruit for inspiration. Then I read the recipe. Apparently, fruit liqueurs take six weeks to cure.

Moroccan-style preserved lemons? Also six weeks.

Lemon-infused olive oil? Three or more weeks.

So forget the lemons. Flavored vinegars? They only take 2-3 weeks — almost enough time to get it ready by Christmas. But some earlier parties were looming. Besides, my favorite flavoring is basil — I should have thought of it in August, or at least before the last frost killed off the garden.

Olives? I don’t have a tree, but even if I did, they take 3-4 weeks to cure.

As one possibility after another got checked off the list, the familiar feeling of pressure started to mount. I was hopelessly behind. Three weeks is no time at all! I should have jumped into gear in October when I was instead scoffing at the stores that put up their decorations early. Or in August, when the farmers’ market was teeming with ripe fruit.

Come to think of it, I should have bought my cards and gift wrap at the clearance sales last January, and started knitting those scarves and sweaters in May, when wool yarn was on sale.

I was hyperventilating. Once again, the holidays were bearing down on me like a speeding train. I contemplated the horror of spending the next 3 weeks miserably elbowing other harried shoppers at the mall.

There had to be a better way — something that would let me stay in my nice cozy kitchen away from desperate, gift-seeking crowds, and yet could provide presents that would be ready before Presidents’ Day.

I glanced again at the bowl of bright yellow fruit on the counter, and the solution dawned on me.

Happy holidays everyone, and best wishes for a year that is as sweet, rich, tangy and full of love as my gifts this year!

And remember the old adage: When life hands you lemons, make lemon curd.

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For the lemon curd recipe, I used my friend Ruth’s recipe, which she tells me is lifted from Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Cake Bible. It’s an especially rich version, which Ruth usually makes with lime rather than lemon. It’s great either way.

Lemon Curd

Adapted from Rose Levy Beranbaum, “The Cake Bible”

Ingredients

8 large egg yolks*

1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 cup sugar**

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened and cut into small pieces

salt

4 tsp. finely grated lemon zest

Directions

In a heavy, non-reactive saucepan, mix together the yolks and sugar until well blended, then add the lemon juice, a pinch or two of salt, and the butter. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly. Take your time and do not let the mixture boil. If you see steam, take the pan off the heat briefly to cool, continuing to stir, then put it back on the heat. After about 10 or 15 minutes you will feel the mixture thicken somewhat. It is ready when it is opaque and thickly coats the back of a spoon; it will still be thin enough to pour. (Don’t worry, it thickens as it cools).

As soon as it is ready, take it off the heat and pour the curd through a fine strainer, pushing it through with the back of a spoon. Discard any residue. Stir in the zest, then pour the curd into attractive, sterilized, airtight jars and cool.

It will keep for several weeks refrigerated, though the sharpness of the flavor diminishes a bit over time.

Notes:

* Don’t worry about the leftover eggwhites — they store very well. Stash them in your freezer to save for an angelfood cake or that wonderful apple-olive tart I told you about a couple weeks ago.

** I used very ripe Meyer lemons, which were somewhat sweet, so I held the sugar down. You can add up to 4 tablespoons more sugar if you prefer your curd less tart.

Napa writer Betty Teller is a serious foodie who tries not to take food too seriously. She can be reached at amuse-bouche@sbcglobal.net.