A bowl of lemons on the table — to hand, not in a far drawer
For fish, for salad or for tea the hand looks for a lemon — and it’s in the far drawer of the veg compartment, already soft and forgotten. Easy to buy “for later” and hide it. I keep a bowl of whole lemons on the table…

For fish, for salad or for tea the hand looks for a lemon — and it’s in the far drawer of the veg compartment, already soft and forgotten. Easy to buy “for later” and hide it. I keep a bowl of whole lemons on the table or on a visible shelf: yellow in sight, the skin dry, the hand takes one straight away.
A bowl of lemons on the table — to hand, not in a far drawer. A half after the salad is another note; a slice in water “for detox” is not this story; zest in a jar its own. Here it’s whole firm lemons in a bowl: for juice, for zest, with fish and with tea — not a secret in a plastic drawer.
In the air they keep their brightness better than in a damp fridge corner, if the house isn’t hot. Soft, spotted or with mould — into the bin, not onto the grater. I don’t cut “a stock” of all of them at once: a whole one keeps longer; a half I use today. The bowl on the table is a reminder, not décor “for a photo”.
I don’t need a lemon I find already shrivelled in a drawer. I need a bowl from which I take a fruit for supper without a hunt through the shelves. At yours do the lemons sit in sight — or already hide until soft in a far drawer?
Photo: Tara Winstead / Pexels
These are kitchen notes for adults, not medical advice.