We all know what to do when life hands us lemons – we make lemonade, of course. But what would we do if there were no lemons. From its western meeting with the Atlantic Ocean to its eastern terminus with Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, the Mediterranean world would certainly never have looked, felt or tasted quite the same.

Lemons, naturally, are citrus fruits – an overgrown berry, we are told. And that makes it close kin to a wide selection of oranges, grapefruits and limes. They are cultivated today around the entire Mediterranean coast and incorporated into all major cultures and cuisines. In Israel, citrus even plays a starring role in the religious observance called Sukkot (Feast of Tabernacles), a clear hint that its place in human dealings goes back centuries. Still, the truth as best science can uncover it goes back not centuries but millennia.

Intriguingly, lemons might well have come out of one of geography’s most traumatic ruptures, though of course humans weren’t around to record what they saw. As continents were being moved together in prehistory, the same immeasurable force that pushed up the Himalayas may have pressed ancestral lemon trees into their perfect climate in the range’s southeastern foothills. Something akin to Shangri-La must have developed for early versions of citrus, including the pomelo and the sour (or bitter) orange, with its need for a sun-splashed mild climate and relatively dry air.

Eons before humans worked in laboratories to crossbreed lemons and other citrus, pollen that liked to travel did the job quite nicely. That’s partly why so many citrus varieties exist to this day. The fruit worked its way through India and China, initially with human appreciation as food or medicine but little human help. Ancient Greeks like Alexander found the fruit had already migrated as far west as Persia, and the Romans who came after them embarked on its cultivation among their holdings on the Mediterranean shore.

As many know, citrus became a food fixture of Greece, Italy, Spain and the entirety of North Africa thanks to Arab Conquest – whether those dreaded occupiers took the name Moors, Berbers, Saracens or Turks, depending on when the invasion took place. The European Crusaders also brought home a taste for citrus from their adventures in the Holy Land. Still, it’s reassuring that the spread wasn’t all about military might.

Arab traders had already made their way west, using either a sea route or an overland route, bringing lemons and other citrus trees with them. By the Spanish empire started gazing even farther west, whether they imagined India waiting for them or some slowly forming vision of the Americas, they had to figure lemons would have a place on their ships.

Citrus took root, literally, in Mexico – especially limes, which spread geographically a bit later than lemons. But a bit to the north, the Spanish established two outposts among the many in what would someday become the United States. They called these Spanish outposts Florida and California.

LEMON CAPER CHICKEN

Here’s a recipe built on Mediterranean foundations that shows up, in some form, in almost every country along the coast. As capers happen to grow in the same zones that produce lemons, it’s a marriage made in geography heaven. Greeks adore lemon in practically anything, even if Spaniards tilt more often toward oranges. Located in between, Italians embrace all types of citrus, including lemon in any veal, chicken or seafood dish in the Italian-American canon called piccata.

½ cup all-purpose flour

Salt and black pepper to taste

1 ½ tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

8 chicken breast scallops (each breast half making 2), pounded evenly and 1/8 inch thick

5 tablespoons butter

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons drained capers

1 cup dry white wine

½ cup chicken broth

Juice of 2 lemons

1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Lemon slices

Season the flour with salt and pepper. Dredge the chicken scallops in the flour, shaking off any excess. Heat the olive oil in a skillet. Cook the chicken, in batches if necessary, 1-2 minutes per side. Remove chicken from the skillet. To make the sauce, melt the butter in the skillet and, when melted, stir in the garlic and capers for only about a minute. Add the white wine, chicken broth and lemon juice. Stir to pick up any browned bits from the skillet, simmering until slightly thickened, 3-4 minutes. Return the chicken to the sauce, sprinkle with parsley and simmer for 5 minutes to let flavors meld. Serve hot, garnished with lemon slices.

Serves 4-6

Note: There are as many variations on this dish as there are cooks along the Mediterranean. Some prefer to make this combination but add quartered artichoke hearts. Others stir in baby spinach, chard, kale or other greens, just until wilted.