Orange

With the neo-eco-bio-cool. We'll pick our own apricots, cut some rosemary from the garden, a little organic honey…

The addition of ricotta cheese gives these citrusy pancakes a little more heft. After you cook each batch of pancakes, transfer them to a heatproof platter and keep them warm for up to 20 minutes in a preheated 200°F oven.

This is my Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon salad. The two main ingredients—carrot and avocado—might not seem compatible or connected, but your first bite will convince you otherwise. The carrots are roasted with cumin and paired with orange, both classic pairings for the vegetable. The citrus goes great with cilantro, and both are a fine match for avocado. Before you know it, you have this fresh, vibrant salad. I love the carrots roasted to the same creamy softness of avocado. The contrast comes not from the texture but from the fact that one's warm from the oven and the other's cool from the fridge.
Sorry if I got your hopes up, but despite the salad's nickname, there's no bacon.

Pastry chef Jennifer Jones of Topolobampo in Chicago shared this recipe as part of a Cinco de Mayo feature on Mexican desserts. Jones encourages you to use different fruits in this refreshing dessert, but recommends sticking to ones that are sweet but have acidity. Raspberries are a perfect example.

These buns can be assembled the night before, needing only a final rise before baking.

Chef Raymond Vandergaag dresses up this citrusy cake with whipped cream and truffled honey, an unnecessary but welcome gilding of the lily.

This citrus cake is decorated with thin slices of candied orange peel. If you have any left over, roll them in sugar and dip in melted icing for a sweet treat.

Haroseth, a symbolic seder food, alludes to the mortar that the Jews used to build the pyramids when enslaved by the Egyptian pharaoh. Though haroseth visually mimes the unappealing look of cement, its taste is actually a delicious combination of fresh or dried fruit, nuts, spices and wine. There are as many variations of haroseth as there are seder tables around the world, and all reflect a myriad of traditions. This recipe is inspired by my grandmother's simple grated apple, walnut, and cinnamon version, along with the flavors of my husband's Middle Eastern background.

"Drunken" salsas have been around forever. They were originally prepared with pulque, an alcoholic beverage made from the fermented juice of the once-sacred maguey (agave) plant. Pulque, which is not easy to find outside of Mexico, is not distilled and has a much stronger flavor than tequila, which I use in its place in this recipe. The alcohol is mostly burned off in the cooking process, leaving only its musky flavor. The sweetness from the freshly squeezed orange juice gives this salsa a wonderful balance.

The King's Cake (galette des rois), in whatever form it took, with a "bean" baked into it, has been the king of desserts on Twelfth Night, also known as the Feast of Kings or Epiphany in France, since the Middle Ages. In those days, the French King's Cake took different forms depending on the region. It was a brioche topped with candied fruits in Provence, a flat galette with cream in the North, a dry cake in Lorraine, a puff pastry round with an almond flavored filling in Lyon. À Paris, it was a gorenflot, a sort of enriched bread raised with baker's yeast, something like a Polish brioche. The ritual of this shared cake is symbolic of the day of the Epiphany, commemorating the presentation of Jesus to the Magi on the sixth of January, but it is also redolent of other pagan traditions linked to the cult of fertility that was so popular with the Romans. The "bean" hidden inside the cake was originally an actual lima bean, a symbol of renewal and fecundity, before it was replaced by a tiny porcelain figure representing the Christ child, then by a host of trinkets. Today, the marzipan-filled, puff pastry round has gained supremacy almost everywhere. And for good reason—few pastries can give such extended pleasure. How delicious when, under its fine butter coating, the many-layered pastry (milles-feuilles), still warm, encounters the silky, fondant marzipan on the palate—a perfect combination of the puff pastry and grainy, ground almonds. No one knows exactly when this so-called "Parisian" cake was born. The invention of marzipan dates from the sixteenth century. The history should be treated with caution, but it is sufficiently delicious to have been inscribed indelibly in the memory of gourmets. In 1588, an Italian marquis named Murio Frangipani marketed gloves perfumed with almonds. There is nothing surprising about this because perfumers were originally glove makers. The essence of Italian frangipani, about which Catherine de' Medici was passionate, inspired the pastry cooks of the French court to create frangipane cream, an equal mixture of pastry cream and almond cream. King's Cake, whether flavored with fruits or almond cream, is a dessert with a history. Certain Epiphanies have been retained in the annals. For instance, on January 6, 1650, at the Louvre Palace, Anne of Austria and her son Louis XIV indulged in the cake, leaving on the table, as was the custom, a share for the poor, in this case the very part that contained the bean. The next morning, there was "no other king than that of the bean," the king having fled Paris to escape the uprising known as the Fronde. Is it because of this unpleasant memory that the tradition of naming the person who finds the bean as "king" for the day was outlawed during Louis XIV's reign, the custom being officially judged to be too pagan? In 1770, Diderot recounted this anecdote in his Encyclopédie, summarizing it with this amusing aphorism: "Signe Denis, sans terre ni château. Roi par the grâce du gâteau." (The sign of Denis [patron saint of Paris] without land or château, King by the grace of a gâteau.) The joy of eating the crown is all part of the pleasure of enjoying King's Cake once a year, and more....

Martin Cate, owner of the rum-centric Smuggler's Cove bar in San Francisco, shares his spiced rum recipe below. The secret: Start with good rum, and don't overinfuse the mixture.

Caramelized pineapple with a honey-orange glaze makes for a quick and elegant weeknight dessert.

Matt Wallace, bartender at Harvard & Stone in Los Angeles, created this potent fruit-filled punch for our story Spring Cocktails Perfect for Brunch. The combination of pineapple, orange, and lemon plus the crisp, dry bubbles from the Champagne really wake up your palate after a long winter, he says. The citrus and sugar base is called oleo-saccharum, and is common in older punch recipes. Wallace says it's an excellent way to add a subtle citrusy perfume to the final drink, and requires time but very little labor.

I've been doing the previous marinades forever. This new one is first cousin to a good barbecued tofu: piquant, sweet-hot-rich, and scintillatingly tasty. The tofu is baked in the marinade/sauce, which cooks down and coats it, caramelizing them. You'll probably have to soak the baking dish overnight before washing it, but it's worth it. Vary this using fruit juice concentrate instead of honey or sugar, and adding extra ginger, orange zest, or both. For an incendiary smokiness, add chipotle in adobo.

My grandfather would occasionally make this for us as a special breakfast treat when I was young; now I serve it as an unusual first course for a fancy dinner or even, occasionally, for dessert. It’s very unexpected—and very delicious. Serve it in small portions, as it is quite rich.

You’ll find many recipes for swordfish in Sicily, where it is plentiful, often combined with citrus to give the meaty fish a bit of pizzazz. Here the citrus flavors come from the pesto; it’s great over grilled chicken or a steak, too.

When I make a salad I like to bring in lots of different textures and flavors. This one has citrus for zing, herbs for freshness, and nuts for crunch. The citrus vinaigrette cuts through the raw spinach flavor.

It’s time to reinvent the crudité platter, and I nominate these attractive little bundles of vegetables; they’re great with cocktails for entertaining as an alternative to a boring deli plate, but they are also a nice alternative to a salad with a pasta dinner. My friends request this often.

The flavorful ginger dressing that coats the parsnips calls for tamari, a sauce made from soybeans that’s darker and richer than conventional soy sauce (it’s also gluten free). Serve the fish with a wedge of orange along with peppery greens, such as watercress or arugula.