Orange

Pickled onions are the magic fix-it condiment in my refrigerator. You could serve me the worst dish ever, and if it had a few pickled onions on top, I’d probably say, “Hmm. Not bad.” Of course, that means that they can also take something that’s already delicious and make it spectacular. They’re a traditional partner with pibils, the banana leaf–wrapped, pit-cooked meats of the Yucatan. I particularly like them on tacos (see Cochinita Pibil Tacos with Habanero Salsa, page 95, and Tacos de Huevos, page 87), where they give an extra crunch and hit of acidity. I’ve made them all sorts of ways over the years—combining the onions with lime juice, salt, and cumin; blanching the onions first, then tossing in vinegar and Tabasco—but it wasn’t until my delightful friend Patricia Jinich turned me on to her method that I made it mine, too. Pati, who blogs at patismexicantable. com, experimented endlessly (well, sixteen batches) to find the right combination that would substitute for Yucatecan bitter orange juice before she settled on this one. It was worth it, but if you can find bitter orange (labeled naranja agria in Latin stores), use it instead of the juice/vinegar combination here.

Wonderful with steamed asparagus, this is also good chilled over a green salad and even with grilled chicken and fish. Try to use extra-virgin olive oil and the freshest garlic you can find. This will keep for about two weeks in the refrigerator.

Orange butter enhances the flavor of many dishes, from pancakes, waffles, and quick breads to savory roasted chicken, pork, or fish. It takes minutes to make this compound butter, but plan to make it at least thirty minutes in advance so the orange juice reduction has time to cool. Be sure your butter is still a little firm, but not so firm that it won’t whip in the mixer. To accomplish this, let the butter sit out at room temperature for a half hour to an hour.

It used to be that blood oranges came around only at Christmastime and had to be flown in from Malta. Now, however, they are grown in California and Florida and have a much longer season. We show them off in what’s become a signature cocktail at Bubby’s.

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.

Citrus and chocolate is a classic flavor combination. It’s your call whether to use semisweet chocolate chips or bittersweet chocolate chips. You could also leave the chips out entirely, or substitute a half cup of chopped nuts of your choice instead.

As turnips do so well with orange, it is only a small step to use them with marmalade. Duck has this affinity too, so the three can come together successfully in a darkly sweet and rich casserole. Like duck à l’orange but sweeter and more suitable for a freezing winter’s day. The orange flavors here, from both fruit and bitter marmalade, should not dominate. The final flavor can be tweaked to your taste at the end with lemon juice or, better still, a bitter Seville orange. Rice, pure and white, would be my first choice of accompaniment. If you start this dish the day before, you will have a better chance of removing most of the fat that floats to the surface.

Marrying textures and tastes to one another is one of the most satisfying pleasures of cooking: the soft with the crisp, the steamily hot with the icily cold, the spicy with the mint cool. I somehow had a feeling that crisp crumbs might work well with the soft, collapsing flesh of a squash. They do, but are more interesting when the crumbs are not packed on top like a crumble but lightly scattered over and between the pieces of squash.

Even though much of the bitterness of this cultivar has been bred out, some extra sweetness is often welcome. Casting around for something sweet to scatter over a plate of steamed kale, I suddenly remembered the Sicilian habit of adding golden raisins to soft, sweet onions. The contrast between the leaves and their seasoning is strangely comforting. Quite when you might eat this is debatable. We first ate it with treacly rye bread and Gruyère cheese, next to fillets of smoked mackerel. It is tricky to know where it would sit most comfortably.

There is something uplifting about refreshing food eaten on a frosty day. What follows is a light, fresh-tasting salad that makes your eyes sparkle.

The market: stumpy carrots, the prickle of frost, dark greens, the scent of wet soil. Here and there among the trestle tables are shallow baskets: Russian kale, tips of cavolo nero with their infant leaves, broccoli heads the size of a mushroom, and sprigs of purple and white sprouting so small you can hold ten in the palm of your hand. Each sprig of vegetable is so precious, so diminutive, as timid as a chanterelle. I pick them up with finger and thumb, which seems the way they must have been picked from their stems. These are shoots plucked from the stem after the growing heart of the plant has been removed. No smothering of cheese sauce, just a three-minute trip in the steamer and a classic hollandaise to dip them in, let down with a dash of cream and a grating of zest from a blood orange.

Orange zest gives these crispy snaps a hint of citrus. Barley malt syrup (for more about this sweetener, see page 68) stands in for the traditional molasses, and tastes virtually identical. If the maple sugar is clumpy, break it up with your fingers before creaming it with the butter. To make gingerbread people, roll the dough to just over 1/4 inch thick and press in raisins or other toppings to decorate the cookies.

This dish is inspired by the Provençal ingredients of fennel, orange, and fresh seafood. For the fullest flavor, rub the marinade into all the cracks and crevices of the crab shell. You’ll want to have bibs, nutcrackers, and crab forks on hand to enjoy this meal in all of its messy goodness. Serve with a light green salad and plenty of fresh, crusty bread to soak up the sauce.

Forget fancy gènoise or sponge cake; in the South, a shortcake is really just a sweet biscuit. Granted, this recipe is a step above, flavored with orange zest and sprinkled with raw sugar that sparkles like amber on the golden tops. At Martha Stewart Living Television, we served miniature versions of these buttery brown sugar shortcakes filled with peaches, strawberries, and blueberries at a luncheon attended by President Clinton.

I made this soup for Mama when I was in junior high. She had been going through a tough time and one day when she came home for lunch I had prepared a chilled cantaloupe soup out of Southern Living magazine. Even though I had always enjoyed cooking, I think that this slightly unusual soup caught her off guard. I wanted to make her feel better, and as it often does, homemade food made with love can make a dark day seem brighter.