Lemon

I can live without nibbles with drinks (you might get an olive if you’re lucky), but from time to time the genre gets an outing. They tend to be more substantial than most, as I have a fear of anything that might fit the name canapé. Little rounds of toast piled with grilled eggplant in a lemon and herb dressing is a tantalizing mixture of crisp and soft.

Clean flavors here, a delightful main-course salad for a summer’s day. You could use other fish, such as red mullet, if you prefer, but the richness of mackerel’s flesh goes well with the sweet beets and tart marinade. Some watercress would be good with this, and maybe a few slices of dark bread and butter.

This is the basic procedure for making any fruit chutney. Non-citrus fruits such as peaches, plums, apricots, and mangoes will need to be peeled. Use any citrus fruit combination for this recipe, although you may need to adjust the sweetness for more tart varieties like grapefruit. I chose kumquats and Meyer lemons because I like their contrasting shapes and colors, and both are naturally quite sweet.

This recipe was inspired by a visit to the Middle East. The day was hot and dry, and someone gave me lemonade with basil and mint. I have been putting herbs in tea and lemonade ever since. Although you can experiment using all sorts of different fresh herbs, this combination makes for a relaxing tonic, as both lemon balm and lemon verbena are known for their calming properties. On a warm night, substitute this lemonade for a glass of white wine, or turn it into a cocktail by adding white wine or champagne.

Sea urchin, or uni in Japanese, is a favorite delicacy back home, one that can be enjoyed raw or mixed as a dressing for seafood. I love the creamy, rich texture and sweet flavor of sea urchin combined with the lemony butter sauce of this gnocchi dish. You can prepare the gnocchi ahead of time, if you’d like. Just toss it with 1 tablespoon olive oil and refrigerate for up to 5 days or freeze for up to 1 month.

There has seldom been a time in my life when a mason jar of this sauce wasn’t in a corner of my mother or grandmother’s refrigerator. The truth of the matter is, once you have had homemade you will go off the store-bought kind for good.

Meme called this “lemon cheese cake,” which is somewhat confusing since people more often use that name for a New York–style cheesecake. This is one of the recipes that “got away.” Meme often recorded a recipe on a card or on the previously mentioned interior of her cabinets. Trouble is, she only wrote down the ingredients and rarely included instructions. She used to actually cover her version of the cake in lemon curd. Normally, lemon curd is soft and not firm enough to frost a cake. I have tried to make the curd with her ingredients list every way but Sunday with no success. I’m afraid now I will never know. Instead, I fill between the layers with curd and flavor the frosting with it as well. The cake itself is an excellent rich, moist, cake that would also be delicious with chocolate frosting or served with strawberries and cream.

When I was older, Meme and Dede would travel to Florida in the winter and stay near a citrus farm. They would return with bulging sacks of oranges, lemons, and grapefruit. I know Dede enjoyed the trip, but I sometimes wondered about Meme. She must have been in her eighties when she derisively commented, “There’s nothing but old people in Florida.” Citrus fruit has a strong presence in Southern cooking. Lemons and other citrus from Florida and the Caribbean were used in Southern cooking as early as the Colonial period. A recipe for lemon pudding appeared in Mary Randolph’s 1824 cookbook, The Virginia Housewife, the first regional cookbook published in America. Lemon meringue pie holds a special place in people’s memories, as do lemon curd and lemon squares like these. Store these bars tightly wrapped in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Several years ago, my girlfriend Becky and I were traveling in the Alps and went through the Saint Bernard Pass from France to Italy, stopping in Valle d’Aosta. We laughed the whole time we were there, as we called it Valdosta, a South Georgia town near the Florida border better known more for pine, pulpwood, and turpentine than Roman ruins and fine cheeses. The first evening, Becky and I went out for dinner, wandering the ancient, winding cobblestone streets looking for a restaurant that seemed inviting. We found one. Thinking of the wooded forests nearby, I ordered rabbit. I should have been thinking of the crystal clear streams of melted snow. Becky ordered trout. They brought it to the table whole, on the bone. The waiter then proceeded to fillet it at the table. When done, he asked if she would like it drizzled with olive oil. It was a revelation. Trout is a very user-friendly fish to grill. Not only does its tough, leathery skin help keep the fish from falling apart, but it also insulates the flesh from the direct heat of the grill. This is the time to break out your best extra-virgin olive oil. The smoky, herb-infused fish just needs a little kiss of liquid gold.

Fresh and colorful, this salad is a far cry from the concoction made with canned green beans and pinto beans. Wax beans are a yellow version of the snap bean. They remain pale yellow once cooked and are a nice color contrast to the green beans and red tomatoes.

Summer is unthinkable without watermelon. As children, my sister and I would stand for what seemed like hours on the back steps and eat and eat and eat chilled wedges of homegrown watermelon. The seed-spitting contests were fierce. As we were often barefoot and playing in the dirt, the watermelon juice served as an adhesive for a fine dusting of red Georgia clay. We would get so sticky and messy, we were barred from the house until we’d washed off with the hose. And, if we didn’t do a good job, Meme was more than happy to help. This watermelon salad is decidedly grown-up enough to eat indoors (barring any seed-spitting challenges). Spiking watermelon with vodka is an old trick, but the crème de cassis—a Burgundian liqueur made from black currants—elevates this to the extraordinary.

Poaching means to gently simmer food in liquid—water, stock, court-bouillon, or even oil. Here, it’s court-bouillon, an aromatic stock that transfers its flavors to the food cooked in it, traditionally fish and shellfish. Use the best possible extra-virgin olive oil to make this dish really shine.

I am generally not a huge fan of lemon desserts, but these cookies are so crisp and delicate that they melt in your mouth. The bonus is that they are incredibly fast and easy to make. In 30 minutes you can go from sitting on the couch thinking about cookies to actually eating them, and that’s never a bad thing.

This easy and show-stopping dish has a little zip to it and will add life to the party. If you don’t like spicy food, you can cut down on the red pepper. This tapa should be cooked at the last minute and served hot. The shrimp cook so fast that you can finish it in less than 5 minutes and it will fill your apartment with mouthwatering aromas.

The beauty of cooking is that you can make things exactly the way you like them. For example, chicken piccata is usually made with capers, but since I don’t like capers, I just use parsley instead. It also means that I can make a double batch of rice pilaf so there are plenty of leftovers. This is not exactly a quick dinner to prepare, but it is so good that I don’t mind taking the time to make it.

The unexpected crunch of poppy seeds in these very pretty, delicate cookie cups is the perfect foil for any homemade ice cream or a fruity sorbet.

When I was at culinary school in France, my instructor advised adding a bit of salt when candying citrus peel. When I asked why, he said that for some reason it made the peel soften, but he couldn’t explain why. So although it may be just a culinary superstition, I’ve added salt ever since. If you aren’t superstitious, simply toss the salt over your shoulder and candy the lemons without it. Although it’s not required equipment, a candy thermometer will show you when the lemon slices are done. Fit the saucepan with the thermometer before starting. When the peel is candied, it should read 225°F (107°C).

This is a terrific recipe for preserving fresh cherries during their relatively short season. As they cook, their ruby red juices gush out and continue to deepen in color until they thicken to a flavorful syrup. Before folding them into ice cream, you’ll want to make sure they’re dry, since the liquid will muddy the ice cream. Drain the cherries in a strainer for at least 1 hour first, until they are sticky and dry (save the syrup for drizzling over ice cream). Then coarsely chop the cherries, or fold them into the ice cream whole as you remove it from the machine. Candied cherries are excellent on top of Lemon Sherbet (page 116) or Olive Oil Ice Cream (page 83), and on any homemade ice cream sundae you make as well.

Do you have OSD? When you see something in a saucepan, do you find that you can’t stop yourself from giving it a stir? If so, you’ve probably got obsessive stirring disorder, and you need to curb that kind of behavior to caramelize sugar properly. Mix the sugar as little as possible, just enough to keep it from burning. Stirring encourages the jagged little crystals to join together and crystallize, which you want to avoid. If crystallization does start to happen, remove the pan from the heat and tenderly stir it to dissolve the crystals before adding the water and lemon juice. This lemony sauce is superb when drizzled over any lemon-flavored ice cream served in Profiteroles (page 232), or along with ice cream–filled Crêpes (page 233).

Not only does this chewy candied peel make a tasty tangle atop a scoop of citrus-flavored sorbet or ice cream, but it’s also terrific drained, finely chopped, and folded into just-churned Super Lemon Ice Cream (page 85), Fresh Ginger Ice Cream (page 43), or Cheesecake Ice Cream (page 62). If you don’t have a candy thermometer, simply cook the peel until most of the liquid has boiled away and the fine threads of peel are shiny and translucent.