Pickled Lemons by bookseller

simplest version, which is best with Meyer lemons but just fine with ordinaries too: Take a lemon and split it into quarters the long way, but stop cutting just before you reach the bottom: The lemon will look (if you're inclined this way) like a wee four-petaled flower opening its heart to the warmth of the sun.

Now cram that puppy with as much kosher salt -- do NOT use regular table salt -- as you can, and sorta squeeze it shut. Stuff it into a jar, ideally one that is only marginally larger than the lemon. Repeat with as many lemons as the jar will hold, and fill up the jar with freshly squeezed lemon juice. Put the lid on, turn the jar upside down every few days for a couple of weeks, and hey presto, preserved lemons.

If you like, you can add any or all of the following, in proportions that seem nice: cinnamon sticks, coriander seeds, peppercorns, cracked cardamoms, cloves (careful with these; they are stronger than you think), cumin seeds (I'd toast them -- VERY lightly -- first), fennel seeds, mustard seeds. Also, I like to float some olive oil on top of the jar, partly because it keeps the (corrosive) lemon juice and salt from coming in contact with the metal bottom of the lid (assuming you're using good old Ball canning jars, which are the easiest and cheapest to find) and partly because it makes a semi-airtight seal and thus helps prevent any bacterial growth, though the acid and salt mean that's really not going to be much of an issue.

Sadly, I have never managed to make a jar that didn't start to look murky and a little scary, but the lemons are wonderful anyway. And even though recipes usually tell you to use only the rind, I use the entire lemon and find it perfectly delightful. And I have two bags of Meyers sitting in my fridge right now, for this very purpose, so you're inspiring me.

Really, it could not be easier, and they are my secret weapon for perking up any soup or stew that tastes a bit stodgy -- you know if a pot of Lentil Stuff is tasting like something you might have been served at the cafe attached to a particularly virtuous food co-op circa 1972, these will make it all zingy and delish.