Dried Lemons (or maybe they are limes): Tagine anyone?

A few weeks ago, Nancy asked where to buy preserved lemons. I found pickled lemons and dried lemons at Sabah Market on Central Avenue and preserved lemons online at one of my favorite online spice vendors, Zamouri Spices.

But her request got me thinking…I’ve never met a lemon I didn’t want to use, and even overuse. I’d never cooked with dried lemons. So I wandered down to Sabah to get some for myself.

The bag (and the guy behind the counter) said that these were dried lemons, but I’m convinced they were limes. Regardless, they smelled heavenly. Of citrus, yes, of course, but smoother, if citrus were a root vegetable it might smell like this.

What do you do with them?

Tagine, the guy said.

OK, tagine. On the way home, I constructed a grand plan for lamb tagine with my little citrus globes. Then I got home, tossed the brown balls on the counter and forgot about them.

Eventually, my plan is to open my kitchen counters as pan-ethnic market, I’ve got them about half stocked already. The limes (I’ve decided for the purpose of this post that they are in fact limes) fit right in with the African habanero paste, the sweet potatoes and the Lebanese olives all threatening to smother my toaster.

But then, as often happens, a few days ago I found myself driving home late from work and trying to figure out what to make for dinner. And, unfortunately, it always in these crunch times that I most want to get creative and stew things.

Tagine is not exactly in the Rachel Ray, working mom, mid-week playbook. But maybe I could fake it, kind of.

Boneless chicken thighs, instead of lamb. The electric braising skillet instead of the oven. When I got home, I started browning the chicken in olive oil with slivers of onions and a handful of the Lebanese olives.

Then I just started tossing in anything that seemed vaguely Moroccan – a cinnamon stick split in two, cumin, a few pods of cardamom, turmeric, some pepper. Once everything was coated and brown I added chicken broth, prunes and the dried limes. It stewed for about 45 minutes. (Anyone want to watch Pokemon videos while mommy makes dinner?)

I threw in some green beans for the last 15 minutes.

The infusion of citrus was lovely, in a soft, not-really-tangy-anymore kind of way. The best part was the prunes (Yes, yes, “dried plums” sounds better, but I learned to love prunes from my grandmother who kept jars of stewed prunes in the fridge and believe me those ugly suckers were prunes through and through.)

My spicing was bit heavy handed, but it was a good first try. Next time, I’m going to try the limes with lamb. And in the meantime, I think there is a little empty space on my counter, so maybe I should order some of these.