You’re standing in the produce aisle, staring at a pile of bright yellow citrus that looks suspiciously like a cross between an orange and a lemon. It’s smoother. The skin is thinner, almost fragile. If you’ve ever tried to solve a crossword puzzle or read a recipe by Melissa Clark, you already know we’re talking about the Meyer lemon. This specific sweet variety of lemon nyt fans and foodies track like seasonal gold isn't actually a "true" lemon at all. It’s a hybrid. A fluke of nature brought to the U.S. by an agricultural explorer named Frank Meyer back in 1908.
Honestly, for decades, it was just a backyard tree in California. People grew them because they looked pretty. Then, the culinary world—spearheaded by icons like Alice Waters at Chez Panisse and Martha Stewart—decided that the standard, thick-skinned Lisbon or Eureka lemons were just too aggressive for certain dishes. They wanted something "round." Not just in shape, but in flavor.
The Mystery of the Sweet Variety of Lemon NYT and Food Culture
The New York Times has a long-standing love affair with this fruit. Why? Because it bridges the gap between the bracing acidity of a traditional lemon and the floral sweetness of a Mandarin orange. Most scientists believe it’s a cross between a lemon and a sweet orange or a mandarin. This gives it a unique chemical profile. While a standard lemon is high in citric acid and has a thick, bitter white pith, the Meyer lemon has a much thinner skin and a scent that leans toward herbal and spicy—almost like thyme or honeysuckle.
If you’ve ever bitten into a Meyer lemon, you’ll notice the difference immediately. It doesn't make your face do that involuntary scrunch as much. It’s still acidic, sure. But the sugar content is significantly higher.
The New York Times Cooking section often features it in recipes where the lemon is meant to be eaten whole—skin and all. Think about that. You wouldn't do that with a grocery store Eureka lemon unless you wanted a mouthful of bitter, waxy pith. But with a Meyer? You can slice it paper-thin, toss it with some salt and sugar, and put it on a pizza or in a tart. It’s transformative.
Why Frank Meyer Almost Lost This Fruit to History
It’s wild to think we almost didn't have these in our grocery stores. When Frank Meyer brought the plant over from China, he didn't realize he was also bringing a "Trojan Horse." Most of the original Meyer lemon trees were carriers of the Citrus Tristeza virus. This virus is a killer. It didn't hurt the Meyer trees much, but it could wipe out entire millions of acres of other citrus crops.
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By the 1940s, the government was basically on a scorched-earth mission to destroy them. It wasn't until the 1970s that a "virus-free" version—the "Improved Meyer Lemon"—was developed by the University of California. That's what you're buying today. If it weren't for those researchers, the sweet variety of lemon nyt writers rave about would be an extinct footnote in botanical history.
Cooking With Citrus That Doesn't Bite Back
When you're in the kitchen, you have to treat Meyer lemons differently. If you swap them 1:1 in a recipe that calls for regular lemon juice, your dish might end up too sweet or lacking that "zing" you expected. It’s about balance.
Actually, let’s talk about the zest. The zest is where the essential oils live. In a Meyer lemon, those oils are incredibly fragrant.
- Salad Dressings: You hardly need any sugar or honey if you use Meyer juice. It’s already got that mellow baseline.
- Baking: This is the MVP of lemon curd. Because it’s less acidic, the curd comes out creamier and more aromatic.
- Roasting: Throw whole slices under a chicken. The skins caramelize instead of staying tough and bitter.
Some people think "sweet lemon" means you can eat it like an apple. Don't do that. It’s still a lemon. It’s just a lemon that went to finishing school and learned how to be polite.
The Seasonal Window: When to Shop
You can’t just get these year-round in high quality. The peak season usually hits from December through May. This is why you see a surge in Meyer lemon content in the winter months. It’s a "winter citrus" staple. If you see them in August, they’re likely imported or from a late-bloom crop, and they might not have that signature thin skin.
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You’ll know a good one by the weight. Pick it up. Does it feel heavy for its size? That means it’s full of juice. The skin should be a deep egg-yolk yellow, almost leaning toward orange. If it’s pale green, it’s not ready.
Beyond the Meyer: Are There Other Sweet Lemons?
While the Meyer is the most famous, it isn't the only sweet variety of lemon out there. You might occasionally stumble across the Ponderosa lemon. It’s a monster. Seriously, it can get as big as a grapefruit. It’s a hybrid of a lemon and a citron. While it’s not "sweet" in the sugary sense, it has a much milder acidity than your standard kitchen lemon.
Then there’s the Ujukitsu, a Japanese citrus often called the "lemonade fruit." It looks like a lemon but tastes like an orange had a baby with a lemon and forgot the sour parts. These are rare. You’ll find them at specialty farmers' markets or in the backyards of serious citrus nerds.
The Dorshapo is another one. It’s a true sweet lemon, meaning it lacks the acid almost entirely. To most people, it actually tastes a bit bland because we expect that "kick" from citrus. It was discovered by a guy named Palemon Dorsett and his team in Brazil around 1914.
But for the general public, the Meyer remains the king of the sweet variety of lemon nyt enthusiasts seek out. It’s accessible. It’s reliable. It works in a cocktail just as well as it works in a pasta al limone.
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Preserving the Harvest
Since the season is short, many people preserve them. Moroccan-style preserved lemons usually use Beldi lemons, but Meyer lemons are a fantastic substitute.
Basically, you pack them in salt and their own juice. Over a month, the salt breaks down the skin until it’s soft like velvet. The flavor becomes concentrated—salty, floral, and deeply "lemony" without the sharp edge. You can use this in grain bowls or stews. It’s a pantry cheat code.
Another trick? Freeze the juice in ice cube trays. But don't throw away the peels. Dehydrate them and grind them into a powder. You can mix that powder with sea salt for a Meyer lemon salt that lasts all year.
The Economics of Specialty Citrus
Why do they cost more? It’s not just hype. Meyer lemons are harder to ship. Because their skin is so thin, they bruise easily. They can’t be tossed around in giant industrial sorters like the thick-skinned Eurekas. They require gentler handling and better packaging. You're paying for the logistics of fragility.
Interestingly, the rise of the Meyer lemon in the US mirrors our changing palates. We moved away from "sour for the sake of sour" and toward complexity. We started valuing the nuances of ingredients.
Actionable Steps for Your Next Citrus Batch
If you’ve just grabbed a bag of these from the store, don't let them sit in a bowl on the counter for too long. Their thin skin means they dry out faster than regular lemons.
- Store them in the fridge. Put them in a sealed plastic bag. They’ll stay juicy for up to two weeks.
- Adjust your recipes. If a recipe calls for 1/4 cup of regular lemon juice, use slightly more Meyer juice and cut back on any added sugar.
- Use the whole fruit. If you're making a vinaigrette, finely mince a bit of the peel. It adds a texture and aroma you can't get from zest alone.
- Check for seeds. Meyer lemons are notorious for having a lot of small, pesky seeds. Always juice them through a strainer.
- Pair with herbs. They love rosemary, thyme, and surprisingly, lavender.
The Meyer lemon isn't just a trend. It’s a permanent fixture in the modern kitchen because it solves a problem: it provides the brightness of citrus without the violence of pure acid. Whether you're a crossword wiz or just someone who wants a better piece of lemon cake, this hybrid is the gold standard. Next time you see that smooth, orange-tinted skin at the market, grab a few. Your cooking will be better for it.