Oh, Lovely Lilting Lemony Limoncello!

My dear friend Jennie just returned from Italy, bringing with her a bottle of the limoncello she and her husband learned to love (when she and I traveled there together 30 years ago, the most we drank was a little rotgut wine made by one of the architecture students we partied with on New Year’s Eve. It was not good).

I knew just what she meant when she rhapsodized about this delightful liqueur. Years ago the LA Times ran an article about proper Italian limoncello, taught to the writer by a very traditional little old lady in Italy. I made a couple of batches which lasted a long time (mostly because even though a little goes a long way, I was rather parsimonious with gifting it). Then I got lazy and bought a bottle--that one lasted even longer because it just wasn’t the same pure, perfumed elixir the Italians intended it to be. Now I realize it’s time to return to Italy via some proper limoncello--although as you can see, if I start now it’ll be late summer before I can treat myself to an icy little aperitif on the patio.

If you want to know why it’s worth the trouble (mostly, the patience!), here's that little old Italian lady's recipe. It's so simple I never forgot it. I've seen many recipes, but never another one that gave people credit for wanting a glass of limoncello so perfect they were willing to wait twice Noah's flood for it.

16 lemons (preferably from someone’s tree—no wax or stickers or anything)
2 x 750 ml alcohol (preferably grain alcohol; I used Stoli 80 proof as recommended by the writer)
3 ½ cups white sugar

Note: People who steep their own liqueurs say it’s a good idea to filter the alcohol 3-4 times before steeping something in it. You can do this with a water filter like Brita. This step isn’t necessary, but the purer the alcohol, the purer the finished taste. For this recipe filter just one bottle of alcohol to start with (you won’t be using the second one right away).

Scrub the lemons very well with very warm, lightly soapy water and a vegetable brush or plastic scrubber (scrub even more if you purchased them from a store; even more if they aren’t organic). Rinse well and dry.

Using a very sharp paring knife or microplane, remove ONLY THE ZEST from the lemons, leaving a little yellow behind on the rind to make sure. A fine microplane makes this easier; a sharp paring knife takes longer but produces wider pieces of zest which will be easier to deal with later on. You decide. Just make sure NO PITH comes along with the zest.

Put lemon peel and alcohol in a very clean jar (at least 1 gallon) and screw the lid on tight. If necessary, stretch plastic wrap over the opening before screwing on the lid. Put the jar in a cool dry dark place and let it steep for 40 days (more if you are super-patient). For the first couple of weeks, swirl the jar around every few days. Then just let it sit.

Forty or more days later, it’s time to make the simple syrup. Bring 5 cups of filtered water to a boil, stir in the 3 ½ cups of sugar, boil for 5 minutes, turn off heat and let cool.

Run your second bottle of alcohol 3-4 times through the Brita pitcher (again, not necessary but highly recommended).

While that’s filtering, it's time to remove the lemon peel from the alcohol it’s been steeping in. Place a fine metal strainer (such as a permanent coffee filter) inside a funnel and pour the alcohol/lemon peel mixture through to a very clean jar or pitcher. Discard the peel. Place a couple of paper coffee filters into the metal one, and pour the alcohol through a couple more times. Discard the paper filters and pour the alcohol through just the permanent filter one last time. Four filtrations are necessary if you used a microplane to zest the lemons; you can get away with just a couple if you used larger parings of peel. However, the better filtered the alcohol is, the purer everything tastes. Just don’t overdo it and aerate the alcohol too much.

This steeped alcohol and your second bottle of freshly filtered alcohol go back in the gallon jar along with the sugar syrup. Screw the lid back on tight and leave it untouched in that cool dry dark place for at least another 40 days. The longer it sits the smoother it will taste.

Eventually it’s time to bottle and bestow your heavenly limoncello on family and friends (really--don’t just hog it for yourself. You can always makes more. Start another batch now!). Make sure your jars or bottles are super-clean and have tight lids. For myself, I liked the down-to-earth feel of a pint canning jar. Like upscale moonshine! For the (too few) gifts I used clamp-top bottles from World Market. Running the jars or bottles through an extra-heated dishwasher cycle is plenty; some folks sterilize by baking clean jars in the oven for an hour at 350.

If you’re doing this for Christmas presents, the middle of the summer is not too early to start. Limoncello mellows as it sits, and will taste even better a year later. This is a drink that rewards a leisurely approach to life, in so many ways!