By Chef Alexis Hernandez
The hour when the day starts slipping
Some afternoons do not need a fix. They need a small correction. So around 2:00 pm, the day starts to creep up on me.
Not in some dramatic way. More like the morning coffee has already done its job and moved on, the AC keeps kicking on just to hold the house at 78, and I can feel my focus getting a little thinner around the edges.
I usually start thinking about dinner early. Around 8:30 in the morning, I am already asking my other half what they want that night.
Sometimes I keep it simple. Sometimes I don’t. But by midafternoon, there is always a moment when I need a small reset before I can get my hands around the rest of the day.
That is when I make the espresso.
And that is when I reach for the lemon.
Where I learned it
I first had it years ago in Los Angeles, after taping You Bet Your Life with Jay Leno. I went to Terra at Eataly with one of the other contestants to get something to eat. We were up on the top floor. I remember the umbrellas open wide against the sun and all the different languages moving around us at once. English, Spanish, Italian—a little French. It was lively without feeling rushed.
Then the espresso came.
It had a strip of lemon peel with it, and I remember thinking, I didn’t ask for that.
I did not say anything. I just said I did not need sugar, thank you, and took a sip.
The lemon changed the whole cup.
It brightened it. Cleaned it up. Made it feel sharper and fresher than any espresso I had ever had before. Not sweeter—just more awake.
I remember thinking, this is a nice reset for the morning to end and the afternoon to start.
I have been doing it ever since.
How I make it now
At home, I use my espresso machine throughout the day. I press doppio, it grinds the beans, and it pulls a proper shot.
Then I get the peeler.
I take a long strip across the lemon so it curls, and I hang it over the espresso cup. Sometimes I set it in the cup before the espresso starts to pour, so the shot runs right over it. Sometimes I add it once the cup is full. Both ways work. The point is that the lemon is there when I need it.
Then I sit down.
Usually I am looking out at the golf course where I live. Sometimes I sit out front on the patio and watch the clouds go by. Usually there is jazz playing. You know me by now. I like my jazz. I like to start and end the day with it most days.
I have small rituals all over the place, I guess.
This is one of them.
What it gives back
My other half notices it when they are around. Sometimes they will say, “Can you pour me one?” Their cup never has the lemon in it. They are a purist. No sugar. Just espresso, pulled properly. Sometimes they go for a little whipped cream on top.
Mine is different.
The smell hits my nose first. Then the heat of the cup. Then I sip it the way I sip hot soup.
I know it sounds a little dramatic to say a ritual can do something magical, but what is the point of a ritual if it doesn’t.
That little cup does something for me.
It slowly gives me energy back. It takes the edge off the stress. It centers me. By the last sip, I feel more ready, more refreshed, more able to continue on with the day instead of getting dragged through the rest of it.
It is such a small thing.
That may be why I love it so much.
The kind of elegance I actually need
I think a lot of us imagine that the things that change a day have to be big enough to announce themselves.
They usually are not.
Sometimes it is just a proper shot of espresso with a strip of lemon peel curling over the cup.
A small bitter thing made brighter. A few quiet minutes looking outside. A little jazz.
A moment to gather yourself before dinner, before the news, before whatever the rest of the day still wants.
Maybe that is why I still do it.
Not because espresso needs lemon.
Because some afternoons do.
