Orange

This is a Mediterranean dish that can be done more authentically if you can get your hands on branches of fresh edible bay (laurel), but that’s not always easy (you could use rosemary or fennel branches quite successfully, and they’re equally traditional, though obviously different in flavor). In the original version, you throw a few branches of bay (laurel) onto a grill and top with sausage. My oven method uses somewhat less bay and is virtually foolproof. Other cuts of meat you can use here: chunks of pork or lamb, cut from the shoulder, or boneless chicken thighs.

In Spain, where the world’s best oranges grow, they are used to season just about everything. One of my favorite encounters with the citrus fruit was an oven-braised dish of pork and oranges that I had in Seville. It could not have been simpler and can be reproduced easily. Use either country-style ribs, ribs cut from the rib (shoulder) end, or even spareribs if you like; avoid center-cut or loin pork chops here because they will become dry and tasteless.

A classic French lamb stew, this happy marriage of fruit and meat is updated here by the addition of a bit of orange, which enlivens the flavor. The peas and potatoes are an optional accompaniment; you could serve this with mashed potatoes or a potato gratin like the one on page 482.

Morocco’s oranges are renowned for their distinctive sweetness, but they’re not common here. Use good California or Florida navels or clementines (you’ll need six or eight) instead. Removing the thin membranes from the individual segments is an optional refinement.

A superrefreshing salad, great on hot summer days. If you have a mandoline, use it here, since the fennel is best when cut into thin slices. This salad can be made more substantial with cooked scallops, shrimp, or crabmeat and is also delicious with grapefruit. Peel the fruit over a bowl to catch the juices, then cut the segments between the membranes.

The peppery bite of radishes is the featured player in this crunchy salad, which is served all over the Arab world in one form or another. Salting the radishes first improves both flavor and texture, but if you’re pressed for time, just salt the salad as you normally would.

From the Mediterranean coast of Spain comes this distinctive sauce, whose flavors are reminiscent of bouillabaisse. Not surprisingly, it’s often served on grilled fish, but it is equally good on chicken and incredible over pork. If possible, use strong-tasting oranges—Valencias are a good choice—not overly sweet ones like navels. In Spain, the oranges used for this are very acidic, even bitter.

I saw these lovely red onions throughout the Yucatán and wondered why their color was so vivid. Turns out they’re pickled in beet juice (you can omit the beets if you like; in fact they add little flavor). These are a perfect condiment for plain grilled fish.

A tiny little side condiment served with grilled chicken or fish that can make any meal sing. It’s fine without any chile at all, but I like a touch. This is a very fragile dish; make it at the last minute and serve it all at once. It will go fast, believe me.

Powerfully delicious, this sauce is served throughout the Caribbean, often with grilled chicken but also over vegetables. Best made with the juice of sour oranges, but you won’t find those here; I use a combination of orange and lime juices.

If you are one of those people who think flan is too heavy, or you like a little acidity in your desserts, or you simply want a change from ordinary flan, this is for you.

Crème brûlée may seem mysterious, but it is actually quite straightforward and simple. Just remember two things: One, like almost all custards, this one is done before it appears to be; remove it from the oven when it is still jiggly. And two, brûlée means “burnt,” not browned. It’s important that some of the topping blacken; the best tastes of campfire-toasted marshmallows. Chefs, and many devoted home cooks, use a propane torch to melt and brown the sugar in the final step. If you have one lying around, give it a shot—just hold the flame so it touches the sugar, which will react quickly. Move the flame around so it touches all of the sugar; when the melted sugar begins to blacken, it’s done.

Rich, dark, and sweet, honey cake was originally a kind of pound cake made by people who could not afford refined sugar or flour (many old honey cake recipes use rye flour, not exactly what we think of as dessert). This is a light, more modern (at least twentieth-century) recipe, quite succulent. Some people stir raisins (about 1/2 cup) and/or chopped almonds or walnuts (also about 1/2 cup) into the batter just before baking. Others cut the loaves in half after baking and add a layer of jam, then reassemble. Personally, I like my honey cake plain.

The familiar zwiebacklike cookie originated not at Starbucks but in Italy, where it is nowhere near as popular as it is in the States. Still, it’s nice to have a bunch around, and they keep far better than regular cookies, up to a week in an airtight container. Increase the sugar to a cup if you like your biscotti sweet. These may be made, of course, without nuts, with lemon instead of orange, or with added ingredients like raisins or even chocolate chips.

These can be produced, if you like, with lard or (more likely) butter, but this is an ancient recipe from southern Spain and probably was originally made with olive oil. Terrific with sherry or coffee.

These traditional Italian cookies are as easy as it gets, and everybody loves them. The citrus flavoring renders them inviting, and most likely you have had them at Italian family celebrations such as weddings, confirmations, and baptisms. Not too sweet, these cookies will keep for a week or two in a cookie container.