Lemon

The joy of a chopped salad is that there is no need to compose each forkful to make sure you have the perfect bite—every uniformly sized morsel is already tossed and mixed together for a whole plate full of perfect bites. Green, almost grassy in flavor, asparagus is one of spring’s delights. Grilling enhances its flavor and imparts a pleasant bit of char to the salad. Briny olives, sharp cheddar cheese, and tender chickpeas add substance to the mix, while crispy bits of fried pita bread lend a salty crunch and additional texture. (We make our own pita chips at the restaurant, and the directions to do so are here, but you could certainly skip this step and use crumbles of your favorite bagged pita chips instead.) Slightly sweet, slightly tart, definitely delicious, this Meyer lemon dressing pops with whole grain mustard, lemon zest, and honey.

This salad is a refreshing choice for an elegant lunch on a summer day. Succulent crab, creamy cubes of avocado, salty olives, and sweet grape tomatoes are folded into a mixture of cool mayonnaise and bright red wine vinegar. Cayenne pepper and Spanish paprika add a touch of heat and depth to the mix. Mesclun greens tossed in a sunny Meyer lemon dressing make the crab salad’s bed. Sweet blue crabs are found in the waters of the Atlantic and the Gulf of Mexico. Their silky texture and rich taste make them my crab of choice—no matter from where a dish’s inspiration may come.

This was on Bar Americain’s lunch menu on opening day, and in the years since then it’s become a staple for the lunch crowd. I first started serving a swordfish club at Mesa Grill years ago, and its popularity prompted me to redesign the sandwich with a more distinctly American feel. Creamy avocado slices add a nice touch of richness to the lean, meaty swordfish. Juicy tomato, peppery watercress, and a fresh lemony mayonnaise complete this vibrant sandwich. Serve with Barbecued Potato Chips (page 163) and pickled carrots and okra if desired.

Bourbon is a truly American product, with Kentucky producing 95 percent of the world’s supply. According to federal law, bourbon must be at least 51 percent corn, distilled to less than 160 proof, and aged for at least two years in new charred-oak barrels. Bourbon also must be made in the United States. In other words, a foreign product that meets all of the other requirements cannot be sold here as bourbon. I love drinking bourbon straight up or on the rocks and using it in both savory and dessert sauces. It is without a doubt my spirit of choice. I also enjoy mixing it on occasion with other ingredients as long as those ingredients don’t mask the slightly woody, slightly floral taste of the bourbon. This drink is an American twist on the French 75, replacing the traditional cognac with bourbon and adding orange juice for freshness.

Cookies at Rather Sweet Bakery are very large, and that’s how our customers like them. For a dinner or cocktail party, I prefer small cookies. That way guests can indulge in more than one sweet finale. I’ve found that a dessert tray stocked with a variety of one- or two-bite treats is extremely popular. This recipe is adapted from a sugar cookie recipe given to me years ago by The Austin Chronicle’s food editor, Virginia Wood. Now that I’ve added fresh lemon juice and chocolate, she probably won’t recognize it. (Pictured opposite, bottom right.)

If you’re like me and prefer dark meat, the easiest way to satisfy your roast-chicken urges without tackling a whole bird is to take advantage of one of my favorite cuts: the whole leg, with thigh and drumstick attached. It makes a hearty meal, and it takes well to the same kind of classic preparations a whole chicken does, including roasting with the magical trio of parsley, lemon, and garlic. If you don’t have a jar of Herbed Lemon Confit (page 4) in the refrigerator, you can substitute store-bought preserved lemon or even just two fresh lemon slices (peel and pith included) plus an extra 1 teaspoon of olive oil. Feel free to roast more sunchokes and use the leftovers to toss into salads, mash like potatoes, or puree in soups.

This recipe started the way all jam recipes should: I came into a bounty of stunningly delicious, in-season fruit. It wasn’t from a blueberry patch like those in southern Maine my homesteading sister, Rebekah, picks from, but it was the closest thing I have to such: the Dupont Circle FreshFarm Market. One of my favorite vendors there, Tree and Leaf, had blueberries one summer that were better than any I’ve tasted outside Maine. I paid a pretty penny for them, went home, and broke open Mes Confitures, the tome by famous French jam maker Christine Ferber. I found her take on a wild blueberry–lemon jam, and I took shameless liberties with it, as anybody working with much different fruit should. I used much less sugar (her wild ones must be very tart), and streamlined the process. The result is a celebration of the blueberry, brightened with slices of candied lemon, peel and all. Use it anytime you want good jam: on toast, stirred into yogurt, and even as the basis of such desserts as Blueberry-Lemon Tart with Toasted Coconut (page 165).

Preserved lemons can spike up the flavor of any dish, particularly something rich that needs the cut-through-the-fat talents only an acidic ingredient can bring. This method, which I based on a recipe in Tom Colicchio’s ’wichcraft (Clarkson Potter, 2009), drastically reduces the amount of time it takes to preserve lemons by slicing them first, allowing the salt/sugar mixture to penetrate that much more quickly. And that’s a good thing, because you won’t want to wait too long for these. They need 3 days of curing time, but they will keep in an airtight container in your refrigerator for a month. Use them in Smoked Trout, Potato, and Fennel Pizza (page 113); Roast Chicken Leg with Gremolata and Sunchokes (page 72); and Tuna, Chickpea, and Arugula Sandwich (page 126); or anywhere else you want a sharp hit of salty lemon.

The true taste of a place is found in its little oddities, and northern India is no exception. Nowhere are the distinctive attitudes and sensibilities of a people better captured than in the lemonade of northern India. Jal jeera is Hindi for “cumin water,” but it’s the wild and unruly yet ultimately constructive influence of India’s famous, sulfuric kala namak salt that lends this drink its edge. It’s traditionally drunk before a meal, but any hot day provides a great excuse to duck into the shade, mix up a tall iced glass of jal jeera, and tilt your face up to the sun to offer a prayer to the sun god Surya.

Salting is a way. It’s the path you take. It lets you discover a passage through the brambles, defines the terrain ahead, sets you on a lost trail, and, toward the summit, reveals key ledges and handholds. The better your use of salt, the higher you can climb and the more enjoyable the ascent. And the view from up top is worth it. The Meadow Martini is a diamond-perfect expression of salt’s power to offer the clearest imaginable view of the most magical possible vista. Crushed Tasmanian pepperberries send blossoms of hydrangea crimson into the translucent liquid of the gin, unleashing extravagant botanical flavors. Tasmanian pepperberry (Tasmannia lanceolata) is sometimes used as a substitute for Szechuan pepper, though it harbors none of the heat and frankly bears no resemblance. If you can’t locate any, substitute a few petals of dried hibiscus or just enjoy your martini in its classic perfection, an arc of Shinkai Deep Sea salt as its only embellishment. Shinkai imparts to the lips the felicitous texture of confetti, and the unalloyed flavor of happiness itself.

Imagine strolling home along the long dusty road after a hard day in the fields. At the crossroads you encounter a gaggle of tow-haired youngsters sitting at a card table. “Sidecar, mister?” they shout. The sidecar is a lemonade drink for grown-ups. A touch of salt opens up the entire experience, makes it restorative. Citrus playing tag with sugar, chilled juice teeter-tottering with warming alcohol, the entire drink alloyed with salt’s wisdom and captured beautifully in a glass of coppery liquid.

One of the great pleasures of salting lies in not salting. Salt cure your lemons beforehand, cook and assemble your ingredients, serve, and let the lemon’s super-salted flavors hop around the plate like Taskiouine dancers. The citrus and salt goad each other on in a warrior’s dance, all white tunics and turbans and powder horns, and in your mind ring the bells of camels and the beat of rawhide tambourines. Simmer chicken in diced preserved lemon, olives, and fresh coriander for a superb tagine. Make a compound butter of minced preserved lemon, ancho or espanola peppers, and cilantro to serve over pan-fried fish. Chop preserved lemon with parsley, dill, shallots, and olive oil for a relish to top anything from rack of lamb to a goat cheese tart. And cut a strip of rind to garnish a negroni cocktail.

The Hindus paint a red dot, or bindi, on their foreheads as an ancient form of ornamentation that also indicates a focal point of meditation: the third eye, the site of the bright inner flame that burns in our mind’s eye. People living in the warmer climates of Latin America wear a bindi of another sort, a cucumber slice stuck to their forehead to keep cool on a hot day. This practice has always fascinated me. The sure knowledge that as the afternoon wore on the wearer’s sweat would salt that cucumber also made me hungry. The crisp, acidic rush of tsukemono, or Japanese pickles, brings focus and refreshment as an accompaniment to grilled fish, rice dishes, and sashimi. It can also be eaten on its own in a meditative moment.

Mascarpone cheese is a little fussy. It breaks really easily, so it is important here to make sure that both the lemon curd and the mascarpone are cold. Don’t even think about overmixing this!

Nut crunch makes a great pie crust! I absolutely love this pie, but it doesn’t fit into the composed dessert realm of Ssäm Bar’s menu and it isn’t quick and easy to pack like Milk Bar pies need to be, so it never made it onto a menu. It’s a delicious recipe you’ll only find here.

This cake was a bestseller at Milk Bar right off the bat. If you’ve had it, chances are you were hooked at first bite. Though the recipe calls for a few things that you’ll have to source aside from your normal pantry ingredients, remember that amazon.com can be the love of your life too, and that this cake is well worth the effort.

Since most people don’t have a commercial Hawaiian shaved ice machine, this recipe has been adapted to make ice pops. Use molds or ice cube trays with standard wooden ice pop sticks, plastic spoons, swizzle sticks, or even chopsticks.