How could I resist?

Strolling down the aisle of a local supermarket, the words on the bag in the produce section leaped out at me: Variegated Pink Lemons.

Okay. When life gives you lemons, you know what to do. And while I was not at all sure what I’d do, into the shopping cart they went!

The lemons, more lime-sized than the classic yellow lemons, are pretty. A pink-tinged yellow skin with pale green stripes running from blossom end to stem end, are simply lovely to behold. I could barely wait to cut into one, and here’s what I found: a mini-grapefruit looking flesh. Pale pink, thanks to lycopene (think red tomatoes), and with only a few small seeds visible. I did what any curious food-minded person would do: I dug into it with a tiny appetizer spoon, and as I suspected, it was not the puckery tartness of a commercial lemon that coated my tongue, but a lighter, more delicate tang that, yes, was actually edible.

Not that I’m recommending the variegated pink lemon as a snack food.

Variegated pink lemons were never actually cultivated. They appeared as a mutation of the Eureka Lemon tree in southern California, somewhere around 1930. What has hindered them from popularity in the Northeast until recently is a mystery to me. So, what to do with these cuties — besides posting them to Instagram?

I decided to hopefully accentuate their natural sweetness by roasting them in the oven. Thin slices brushed lightly with olive oil and a pinch of kosher salt were popped into a 375 degree oven for about 10 minutes, resulting in a lightly caramelized result. If your slices are a bit thicker, you may need to continue roasting them for another 5 to 10 minutes, but keep a close eye on them, as they can quickly go from roasted to toasted.

An even quicker method I tried, with equally tasty results, was to heat a small amount of olive oil in a cast iron pan — enough to completely coat the surface of the pan. Add slices of lemon in a single layer, flipping once to start, reducing heat from medium-high to medium-low. In just about a minute, flip again, and continue frying for about 45 seconds. You’re looking for browned, not burned, edges. Then what?

Use to garnish baked salmon or swordfish, or as a zesty side to roasted chicken. Do I dare suggest coarsely chopping and serving with vanilla or sweet cream ice cream?

Mincing them and adding them to drained, diced chunks of firm tofu, a teaspoon or so of capers, a squeeze of pink lemon, a dash of tamari soy sauce, a few toasted pepitas, and a bit of tofu mayonnaise, then stuffing it into pita pockets with some arugula? Would I suggest adding chopped roasted lemons to goat cheese warmed with olive oil, some garlic, herbs, and crushed red pepper for a pasta topping? I would. (But remember, I’m also likely to drizzle balsamic glaze on my ice cream… it’s an acquired taste.)

And when life gives you lemons in winter, you make lemonade, of course: hot lemonade, my favorite folk remedy for a stuffy nose or sore throat. The variegated pink lemon makes a delicious hot beverage. But don’t be disappointed to find the juice is only very slightly tinged with color.

Hot Lemonade: Squeeze juice from one lemon, 2 tsp local honey, 1 cup almost boiling water. (Throw in a chunk of ginger if you like. Garnished with a slice of the lemon, of course…)

You’ll find plenty of your own reasons and inspirations to put these fancy lemons in your cart, I’m sure. Keep your eyes peeled: who knows what other secrets are hiding in the produce department?