The Zester of All Zesters

Exciting news on the zesting front. I hope you'll agree.

Last night I went to Bed Bath and Beyond to get a few new kitchen utensils. I was cruising the gadget aisle and came upon something I've been wanting for quite some time - a Microplane zester. I know, to most it doesn't seem like much. But this is the coveted zester used by many chefs around the world. This isn't OXO. This isn't Kitchenaid. This is a Microplane. Fancy schmancy!

Microplane started in 1990 as a small woodworking tool company based out of Russellville, Arkansas. The story goes, in 1994, a woman named Lorraine was baking an Armenian orange cake. Out of frustration with her old grater while trying to zest an orange, she picked up a new tool her husband, Leonard, had brought home from their hardware store, Lee Valley Tools. She slid the orange across its blades and was amazed. Lacy shards of zest fell from its surface like snowflakes. The Lees marveled at the tool, ate the cake, then promptly changed the product description in their catalogue. The Microplane grater had earned permanent space in the kitchen. (Source)

For well over two years I've been using a junky zester that was a free gift with my subscription to Martha Stewart's Everyday Food magazine. It seems to tear at the skin of an orange or lemon rather than shave it, and often I find a lot of pith in my zest. Not anymore! When I brought the Microplane home and showed it to Eric, I said, "Look how sharp this thing is!" Upon his inspection, he replied, "Wow... Can I use that on drywall mud?" Umm... No.

Besides the exciting purchase of the Microplane, I also got a regular bar zester, which helps me immensely in making candied citrus rind for my Italian cream cake. Before, I was just slicing oranges and lemons ever-so thinly and delicately slicing off the pith with a paring knife. This method left me with strangely shaped pieces, often with too much pith left on them. With the bar zester, I merely run the larger zester (not the tiny holes on the end, but the big notch in the middle) down the fruit and off comes the most even, pith-free piece of rind. After I had finished sugaring my candied citrus rind last night, Eric chimed in, "Wow, those are really perfect."