Woe is me! I’m lime-less in Grand Cayman.

Before Hurricane Ivan, we took many things for granted and those versatile little Cayman limes top the list.  Nature really rubbed this in these last few weeks. During the peak of wahoo and conch seasons when I needed those little yellow fruits the most, there were none to be had.

 Limes are one of the most important ingredients in Caribbean sauces, marinades and drinks—and of course, the perfect complement to rum. Any recipe calling for lemon juice is improved by substituting West Indian lime juice. What the Seville or sour orange is to Cuban cooking, the humble lime is to ours.

It’s the star of the Cayman kitchen, rivaling coconut, local peppers and thyme as Key seasonings.

However, Caymanians have many uses for limes and not all of them culinary. We always have limes handy when cleaning fish, lobster and conch—lime juice freshens your hands, the rind cleans your cutting board and takes away any fishy odor. Caymanian fishermen have known this since time gone.

We also “wash” our catches and chicken too with lime juice and water before seasoning to remove any foul tastes. Some rub the rind on mosquito bites to soothe the skin.

And we can’t forget this important quality: it’s the source of the Queen of all tropical desserts, the Key Lime pie.

But in September 2004, Hurricane Ivan stripped Grand Cayman’s landscape of limes. Gone was the prolific tree that was the prize of our Grand Cayman yard, a feisty tangle of thorns that bore fruit like an entire grove. In season, which seemed endless, one shake supplied family and friends with sackfuls of luscious little gems. I never realized how much I depended on limes for so many things until I had a hole where our tree once was. Those surviving Cayman lime trees are now genuine treasure and their fruits are as valuable as gold.

A Nomadic Little Treasure

From juicy West Indian limes to tart Seville oranges, without citrus the taste of Caribbean cuisine would be very different. But like many island edibles, our once plentiful Cayman lime, or Citrus aurantifolia Swingle, is an imported treasure with a nomadic history, and known by different names: Mexican lime, West Indian lime and Key lime.

Native to ancient Malaysia, our limes are smaller, sweeter and juicier than Persian limes (Citrus latifolia) and have thinner, pale yellow, not green,  skins when fully ripe. They are only about 1-1/4 inches in diameter, no bigger than a golf ball, but they pack a huge dose of vitamin C per drop of juice. A valuable fruit to carry, the lime probably traveled with oranges and other citrus thousands of miles to the Near East and North Africa with Arab traders, and from there, to Mediterranean Europe carried by warriors during the Crusades.  The leap across the Atlantic to the Americas came courtesy of 15th century European explorers.

Columbus is credited with bringing the first citrus to the West Indies: oranges and most likely, limes from the Canary Islands, which he planted in Hispaniola in 1493. By around 1520 limes reportedly flourished in Haiti and later spread throughout the Caribbean and Americas, from Trinidad to Central America and Mexico. Much of the world began calling that little yellow lime the “Mexican lime,” yet tiny Dominica in the Eastern Caribbean became one of the world’s largest lime producers and exporters.

Spanish explorers probably brought the first limes to Florida, but it wasn’t until Dr. Henry Perrine introduced lime trees to the Keys in 1835 that they attracted any attention. They flourished and became a major commercial crop in early 20th century South Florida and the Keys. The infamous hurricane of 1926 ended that and the Keys lime crop never recovered except as dooryard fruit.

Cayman limes have been slow to recover but we have faith. Local farmers couldn’t import replacement stock from Florida, whose citrus industry has been hit hard during the past six years, first with citrus canker hysteria and then by storms. Trees the state of Florida didn’t’ destroy as “a preventative measure,” were quarantined and could not be moved. Then two years of hurricanes wiped out more of Florida’s commercial Key lime crop.

So the only thing we can do is wait, substituting supermarket Persians or in a real crisis, bottled juice—even those plastic limes with harsh concentrated juice. For the time being, we wash our fish and meats in vinegar. Those days of reckless consumption of limes in pitchers of limeade, pies, marinated conch and so many other things are gone for now. The sight of fresh local limes makes me giddy —and here’s good news! I recently bought enough to season a fish dinner at Willie’s Fresh Fruits & Juices in Red Bay. So there is hope. A few months ago, we bought two tiny local  lime trees at the Botanic Park native plant sale. We’re hoping they’re Cayman limes, but it will be years before they bear.  I’m looking forward to next month’s Agricultural Show for an update on our Lost Lime Crisis.

Key Lime Pie –the Tropics’ Greatest Dessert—and Greatest Debate!

When limes arrived in these islands remains a question. Our older Caymanian cooks remember using limes back in the 1920’s, but no one has been able to pinpoint when the fruits became plentiful in Cayman. In fact, there may be a Key West connection.

It’s not well known today that Caymanians—or “Caymanders” as they were called—sailed to the Florida Keys between 1905 and 1912 to help build the extension of Henry Flagler’s East Coast Railway from Miami to Key West (it was later destroyed by a hurricane in September 1935.) Our men were invaluable laborers because of their ability to tolerate the mosquitoes that overwhelmed most mainland workers. They may have returned home with specimens of those sturdy lime trees to bolster the lime crop of Cayman. Or that may have been the original stock of the fruit that thrived here. Another souvenir might have been the recipe for the condensed milk and lime juice confection, Key Lime custard, the forerunner of Key Lime Pie.

Key Lime Pie was elevated to culinary sainthood when New York Times food writer and cookbook author Craig Claiborne called it “the greatest of all regional American desserts” about 20 years ago.

Food historians believe the original recipe dates back to late 19th century south Florida and romanticized it by designating Key West as the birthplace. Key limes had flourished in the Keys after 1835. A few decades later, American inventor Gail Borden created condensed milk in 1853 and the revolutionary products became a staple of Floridian (and Caribbean) pantries where fresh dairy products weren’t available. (Don’t confuse it with evaporated milk—that’s a completely different thing and not an acceptable substitute!) Some clever Keys cook devised a kind of desperation custard or curd recipe combining lime juice and condensed milk and egg yolks and eventually put it in a baked crust. Pastry proved too soggy and graham cracker crust replaced it because it held up better. That was it. The filling in the original Keys recipe was not baked, as cooks believed the acidic lime juice “cooked” the ingredients. Later, concerns over salmonella in unpasteurized raw eggs changed that and now the pie is baked. One absolute remains: no green food coloring is allowed! Authentic Key Lime pie is supposed to be pale yellow.

Today variations of Key lime pie are found not only throughout the tropical Americas, but all over the world, springing up in unlikely and even frigid places where only Persian limes and bottle juices are available. We think Cayman Lime Pie is the best, but the next question is who makes the absolute best?

You tell me. Cast your vote for today’s Pie Champion and if you think you have Cayman’s Best Lime Pie Recipe, share it with the rest of us.

Tortuga Cayman Lime Pie (Key Lime Pie)

This is my variation of this popular tropical dessert. I’m not fond of graham cracker crust and think mine improves the pie recipe, but you can substitute one if you prefer. If like me, you can’t find Key limes right now, use whatever limes you can find, but use fresh juice.  If you like a very tart pie increase the lime juice to 2/3 cup and the grated zest to 2 teaspoons.

You don’t have to garnish the pie, but for a spectacular dessert, top each slice with a spoonful of diced ripe mangos, papaya or strawberries a generous dollop of rummy whipped cream. Sometimes I even surprise guests and serve with avocado slices instead—delicious!!

Crust:

1-1/4 cups finely crushed vanilla wafers or crisp lemon cookie crumbs
3 tablespoons butter, melted
2 tablespoons light brown sugar, packed
? teaspoon grated nutmeg
? teaspoon grated lime zest

Filling:

4 large egg yolks
1 teaspoon fresh grated lime zest
1 14- ounce can sweetened condensed milk
? cup plus 2 tablespoons fresh Key lime juice
2 teaspoons Tortuga Light Rum
2 dashes Angostura Bitters (optional)

Rummy Whipped Cream (topping)
1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon confectioner’s sugar
1 teaspoon Tortuga Light Rum

For crust:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine ingredients and blend well. Press evenly into a 9-inch glass pie plate, covering bottom and sides up to the top. Bake until lightly browned, for about 8 -10 minutes, then remove from oven and allow to cool at least 20 minutes. (If you’re intimidated by making your own crust, use a 9-inch prepared shortbread or graham cracker crust.)

For filling:

Use an electric mixer to beat egg yolks and lime zest at high speed until slightly thickened, about 2 minutes. On low speed, gradually add condensed milk, blending well, and then add lime juice, bitters and rum, mixing until just smooth. Pour mixture into the cooled piecrust and bake at 350 about 12-15 minutes or until center is firm and set. Allow pie to cool 20 minutes on rack, then refrigerate uncovered at least four hours before serving. For firmer pie, freeze the cooled pie wrapped tightly in plastic wrap.

Rummy Whipped Cream:

When ready to serve, whip together the heavy cream, sugar and rum until it forms stiff peaks. Mound onto the pie and spread evenly.

Cleo’s Cayman Lime Pie
(from Miss Cleo’s Cayman Kitchen: Treasured Recipes for East End)

“This was one of my most famous pies. I still hear from people today who ask for a copy of my lime pie recipe! No matter what others say about pale yellow being the true color of real Key lime pie, I believe that lime pie should be green, and adding a few drops of green food coloring is important. Lemon pie is yellow. My foreign guests expected to see a little green in their Cayman lime pie!”

Crust:

2 cups dry bread crumbs
3 tablespoons margarine or butter, melted
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon brown sugar

Filling:

4 tablespoons unflavored gelatin
1-1/2 cups sugar
? teaspoon salt
4 large egg yolks, beaten
? cup fresh Key lime juice
? cup water
4 drops green food coloring
1 cup heavy cream, whipped until soft peaks form
4 egg whites
1 tablespoon sugar
Preheat oven to 350 F. Combine the ingredients for the crust in a medium mixing bowl and blend well. Press into a 9 inch pie dish. Bake crust about 10 minutes, until set.

In a large saucepan, mix together the gelatin, sugar, salt to blend, then stir in the egg yolks, lime juice, and water. Over medium high heat, bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium low. Cook, stirring constantly, until filling has thickened. Remove from heat, stir in food coloring; spoon into a bowl and chill until set, about 2 hours.  To finish pie, beat egg whites with sugar until stiff peaks form, then fold into whipped cream, very lightly, just to blend. Gently fold the cream mixture into the lime gelatin filling and spoon into crust. Chill pie two hours at least before serving. Top each slice with additional whipped cream if desired