 It's basically a custard-type thing that you refrigerate and eat on toast, cakes, in yoghurt... that sort of stuff. If you're any kind of citrus freak you'll think you've popped your clogs and gone to heaven.  | It's strange how many people remain stubbornly unfamiliar with, and even leery of, the delightful lime. According to Tantric tradition, limes are great against demonic possession and the evil eye. It is the lemon's hipster cousin, tasting definitely citric but rather more complex and fragrant than the latter, as if the coconut and osmanthus fairies had attended its birth and bestowed their fumy blessings. Limes don't have the bite of the old-timey lemon proper and this mild manner has made them subject to abuse in a range of disgustingly sweet dessert recipes. We need not concern ourselves with this; lime curd isn't something you can be forced to consume by the sickening slice while some well-intentioned associate sits waiting to insist you have another.  Fresh lime curd + plain yoghurt If you divide it into tiny presentation jars to pass around your friends they'll thank you profusely then probably hold you writhing over naked flame til you divulge your methodology. To hell with them. We're keeping this lot for ourselves teee heeee! You probably will too. |
This version is adapted from a never-fail lemon curd recipe I found... somewhere... maybe online? I dunno. I think it'd work with any citrus fruit, possibly even grapefruit, if you're not into limes or can't obtain them.
A small word of warning to the susceptible (you know who you are)- this stuff is like crack and once you've had your first bump, it's allllll over. Forget calorie restriction, forget social responsibility, forget your firstborn... you can try to hide it at the back of the freezer, but it never sets deterrent-hard and is always cooing to your lizard brain about that time you guddled the last bit out of the jar with your hands naked at midnight and how fucking good that was (I regret nothing).
A small word of warning to the susceptible (you know who you are)- this stuff is like crack and once you've had your first bump, it's allllll over. Forget calorie restriction, forget social responsibility, forget your firstborn... you can try to hide it at the back of the freezer, but it never sets deterrent-hard and is always cooing to your lizard brain about that time you guddled the last bit out of the jar with your hands naked at midnight and how fucking good that was (I regret nothing).
| W H A T Y O U ' L L N E E D - About 5-6 medium size limes - Roughly 6 tablespoons of softened butter - 1 cup of white sugar - 2 large free range eggs, + 2 extra yolks - The zest of one lime > There's no real need for precision. Just whack off 6 big hunks of butter and drop them into a bowl, then zap them in the microwave or stand the bowl in hot water like this until they're soft, but not melted. Dump in the cup of sugar, and cream them with a the beater of your choice until they're respectably cake-mixy as per below. |  |
 | Crack two eggs whole into another bowl, then two more into yet another bowl, letting the white pass through your fingers each time and adding the reserved yolks to the whole eggs. Using fresh eggs will allow you to cling to sanity during this procedure since the yolks tend to remain intact. Give the spare whites to your pets or save them for an omelette.  |
Then add the eggs, roughly one at a time, to the butter and sugar, mixing thoroughly in between. Cut the limes in half and squeeze them hard until you have your two-thirds of a cup of juice. Try to exclude any pips.
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 | < Add the juice to the creamed sugar and eggs and mix well. It will start to look 'split' and curdled (see below) at this stage, but don't worry, you're about to cook it into submission. Pour it into a medium saucepan (not the crappy one- use the one with the decently thick bottom that distributes heat evenly).  |
| > On a low setting (less than a third of your element's capability), and stirring very frequently, heat the sauce through until it begins to recombine and become silky smooth. This will happen quite suddenly sometimes. Do not wander off- keep stirring, dammit. If you succumb to the temptation to heat it too much/quickly, you'll just end up with limey scrambled eggs, so yeah... don't do that either. After around ten minutes of constant, watchful stirring it will start to thicken. Not crazy thick; just heavier to push around the pot and to the point where it thinks about sticking to the bottom, that sort of thing. Like regular custard. We're nearly there! |  |
  | Remove from heat, make sure it's not sticking to the bottom and add the fresh zest of a whole (well-washed) lime. You can do this with the finest panel of a regular cheese grater if you don't own a purpose-built zester.  ^ You can leave out the zest if you're weird about zingy green shit floating in your food, but I think it adds another layer of awesomeness myself. < Bag up the curd in a very clean large jar that does not smell of pasta sauce or relish or anchovies and keep it in the fridge for a week, or the freezer for a few months- you can still use it straight from the jar since it never solidifies fully. It will set further until it sort of resembles thickest custard/room temp butter. Try it on hot toast, crumpets, waffles, ice cream, swirl it through plain yoghurt while it's still warmish, wipe it onto a boring cake and smoosh it onto scones. After a jar or ten there might be more of you to love, but you won't mind. |
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