The Sandpoint Eater: Thanks, Frank

By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist

Last week, I made sourdough loaves that were photo-worthy. My daughter, Ryanne, is an expert baker and her loaves are always picture-perfect, while I have struggled to achieve comparable results.

My current sourdough starter was a Christmas gift from my younger daughter, Casey. It was a new starter for me, but not a “new” one. The Etsy cottage-shop bakery from which she purchased it claims the Egyptian starter is more than 4,000 years old. The same multi-starter gift package included a 2,000-year-old French starter and an Italian starter purported to be just as old. 

Those claims left me pondering the provenance of these ancient, living cultures. 

Through my due diligence, I learned that the Esty shopkeeper “thoroughly researched and sourced their authentic historical sourdough starters, ensuring that well-documented oral histories from reputable experts and communities support each one.” 

Knowing about oral histories from my own (embellishing Irish) clan, I still couldn’t be sure of the provenance. With continued curiosity, I did more research.

I learned that researchers and scientists discovered yeast in Egypt, which was recovered from ancient clay pots used to hold beer and bread 4,500 to 5,000 years ago. A team of scientific collaborators harvested the yeast, brought it back to life and baked a loaf of bread (how it found its way to an Etsy shop will require additional research on my part). 

Now, if only they could break bread with scientists in Ireland who have discovered butter buried beneath peat bogs that is every bit as old as the starter.

Some foods are easier to trace to their origins, thanks to the works of agricultural explorers like Frank Meyer, who traveled to China on four separate expeditions (1905-1918) and introduced more than 2,500 plants to the U.S., including wild and cultivated forage crops, such as alfalfa, drought-hardy small grains, like sorghum, and many varieties of citrus, stone fruits and nuts. 

After years of roaming the wilds of China, Meyer became despondent over politics, felt isolated and alone, and questioned his life’s work. 

Back home in the U.S., his boss, David Fairchild, dangled a carrot (in the form of a lemon) to the downhearted explorer, promising Meyer the small, sweet, bright yellow lemon he discovered would be named in his honor.

Meyer sent cuttings back home, and gardeners began planting the trees in Chico, Calif., and later in other citrus hubs like Florida and Texas. The lemons were sweet and delicious, but the thin skins were often damaged in shipping. 

Once discerning chefs discovered these backyard, mostly ornamental lemons were sweet and delicious — with edible rinds — green grocers began filling the produce aisles at Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and local markets.

Sadly, Frank never returned home to see his namesake lemons take root. In June 1918, Meyer boarded a steamer on the Yangtze River in central China bound for Shanghai, his exit point from the country, eager to return to the U.S. Late in the night, Meyer wandered over to the ship’s railing. There were no signs of a struggle or foul play. Some speculate it was suicide, but his death remains a mystery.  

Meyer was the first plant hunter/explorer to look for useful plants rather than ornamental ones, and I was reminded how grateful I was for his discovery when, last week, a large parcel package filled with fragrant Meyer lemons (from my good friend and Tucson snowbird, Mary), showed up on my doorstep. 

These lemons are so versatile and as soon as I can source some Irish bog butter, I’ll be making lemon marmalade to schmear on my Egyptian sourdough toast.  

Meanwhile, I’ll be sautéing some thin lemon slices up until they’re nice and crispy — the perfect topping for lemon shrimp linguine. You can make some, too. Meyer lemons are in season and are in stock in most of our local markets. Thanks, Frank.

Meyer lemon and shrimp linguine

The crispy lemons slices add an extra layer of flavor — for vegetarians, substitute the shrimp
with petite peas — delicious paired with the lemon.
Serve with French bread and a chilled pinot gris.
Serves 4-6.

Ingredients:

For sautéed lemon:

• 1 Meyer lemon

• 2 tbs extra virgin olive oil

• sea salt

For linguine:

• 1 (16-ounce) package linguine pasta

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

• 2 shallots, finely diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 pinch red pepper flakes (optional)

• 1 pound shrimp, peeled and deveined

• 1 pinch sea salt and freshly ground pepper

• ½ cup dry white wine

• 1 Meyer lemon, zested and juiced

• ¼ cup finely chopped fresh parsley leaves

Directions:

Wash and dry the lemon. Trim off the ends and slice as thin as possible, and remove seeds.

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Slide the lemon slices into the oil. Cook, turning a time or two until the lemon peels crisp, about 4 minutes (careful not to overcook).

Transfer the lemons to a paper towel and season with a sprinkle of sea salt and let the skillet cool a bit (to be used again). 

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook linguine in boiling water until nearly tender, 6-8 minutes. Reserve 1 cup of pasta water.

Melt 2 tablespoons butter with 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat.

Cook and stir shallots, garlic and red pepper flakes in the butter/oil until shallots are soft, 3-4 minutes.

Add shrimp to the skillet and cook until pink, stirring occasionally, 2-3 minutes. Remove shrimp from skillet and keep warm.

Pour white wine and lemon juice into skillet and bring to a boil, deglazing the browned bits of food off of the bottom of the skillet with a wooden spoon. 

Add the linguine, shrimp and parsley in skillet, and toss mixture until coated — adding some pasta water if needed. Season with salt and black pepper, and top with lemon zest and crispy lemon slices. Serve hot.