Lemon Posset
It was a bitterly cold January day, below 10 degrees F, when I spotted a pretty ivory lemon pudding on my phone. I rarely look at recipes on social media, but I was alone in a Massachusetts inn, lounging indulgently. The moment I saw this modest and perfect dessert, I knew I was destined to eat it with pleasure for the rest of my days. There would be no pain attached, no Sunday morning repentance after a Saturday night spree. It is the perfect minimalist real food dessert for a dairy-loving non-baker.
Sorrowful words of the singer Lukas Nelson (“Forget About Georgia”) came to me, but the feeling was reversed.
“And then when she told me her name I knew I would die slowly
I knew I was destined to live with this pain every night”
When she told me her name – “posset” – I knew I was destined to live with this joy all my life.
Nearly a year later, I am still enamored of citrus posset. It’s a tart, silken pudding made with only three ingredients. It’s a cinch to prepare and sets itself. Unlike many real food dishes I love to eat (pot roast, I see you), it leaves me fragrant when I leave the kitchen, maybe even more fragrant than when I started. If I’ve been chopping garlic, I just wash my fingertips in half a spent posset lemon to make it disappear. Unlike my other beloved, humble desserts (berry crumble) it looks fancy in whatever pretty, mismatched glassware I have on hand.
It works with any kind of citrus: Meyer lemon, bottled key lime juice, pomelo, grapefruit. Posset is also delicious. Once we dropped in fresh mango chunks. Top it with berries or shortbread.
My large recipe serves about 16, and I have given you proportions for a small batch, too, serving 5 or 6, according to your dishes. You must label possets “DO NOT EAT” or they will all be gone.
In a few months, I made so many batches of posset, which derives from medieval English (possibly medicinal) recipes for milk curdled with citrus or alcohol, my family became numb to its charms. Not me. I would gladly eat one posset daily. When I do, I perform a little ritual. In my Dame Edna voice, I say, “Another posset, possums?” I think it’s adorable. They don’t. Never mind, possums! You can’t please everyone.
Organic lemons are preferred because you will be eating simmered peel.
Big Batch of Lemon Posset
8 large lemons, brushed under warm water yielding 1½ c juice (approx. 350 ml)
6 c heavy cream (3 pts or 1 ½ liters)
1 lb white sugar (about 2.5 c or 500 g) or a little less
Wash and brush lemons under warm water to remove wax. Juice. Zest 2-4 lemons.
Simmer the cream, sugar, zest, and lemon juice gently for about 15 minutes, until the sugar is entirely dissolved and the cream is well flavored. I sometimes float spent lemon halves in the cream for a few minutes, too, which will give you more lemon flavor in the batch, and a touch of bitterness.
Remove the lemons if any. Allow the cream to cool a bit. Pour into small bowls, glasses, ramekins, or stemware set in a tray. Chill the entire tray for four hours or overnight. Serve cold.
Little Batch of Lemon Posset
½ c lemon juice and zest of 1 or 2 lemons
2 c heavy cream
2/3 c white sugar
