Citrus

Baking chicken on top of zucchini is a great way to get your green vegetables in. The zucchini absorbs all the chicken and herb flavors in the pan and winds up tasting a whole lot better than any vegetable really should. We love to bake chicken pieces with a slice of lemon on top because the lemon browns right along with the chicken skin and adds a nice zesty flavor.

We do so many pork chops at home and at The Lady & Sons these days because they’re fast—you can make as many as you need—and they’re a good change from red meat or chicken. This recipe is a really nice way to enjoy them. Orange marmalade gives them a sweetness that’s perfect for adding a little zest to your meal.

My granny always made this punch. She practically raised me; we lived with her until my daddy bought us a house and moved us out when I was still a little boy. My grandmother was a hardworking Southern woman, always cooking and cleaning her house. This is her recipe for as refreshing and fragrant a summer drink as you can imagine—a really intensely flavored version of sweet tea, if you will. It’s a family favorite to this day. (It doesn’t call for Crown Royal, and I don’t even mind.) One thing, though: My granny’s last name wasn’t Jenkins, and she never did tell me who this recipe is originally named after; that’s a mystery for the ages, I guess.

If I’m working, which is to say I’m not drinking anything strong because I’m focused on winning a competition, I don’t drink anything besides sweet tea. I love sweet tea, truly. It’s the drink of the South, the drink of my home. Here’s how we do it.

I may be from a small town in south Georgia, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy some fancy food, too. And just as I don’t expect people to turn their noses up at cheap pork shoulders that are delicious smoked, I don’t turn mine up at lobster tails. They’re expensive, but, man, are they good—especially if you cook the tails in the smoker. Try it.

I decided to make lobster the last recipe in this book so I could give myself the gift of a lobster dinner to celebrate. My father’s family in Montpelier, Vermont, were all passionate lobster-lovers. Being in an inland state, cut off from the sea, only made them more avid for a good lobster dinner, and they frequented The Lobster Pot on Main Street for every kind of celebration. My aunt Marian, after she became a widow, would often stroll down to The Lobster Pot to have dinner by herself, and it was there that she taught me the ritual of eating a lobster—sucking the juices and little morsels of flesh from each leg, and always saving the big claws for the last, because to her they contained the most delicious meat. So, for my treat, I stopped at Citarella’s in Manhattan and asked for a 1 1/4-pounder. The fishmonger held one up to demonstrate for me how lively the little lobster was as it wriggled and pawed the air with its tentacles. I was even asked whether I wanted a male or a female, and of course I said female, so I could enjoy the roe. But when I got it home, there was only the tomalley—the green-gray loose substance that is the liver; there was no roe. I looked in Julia Child’s The Way to Cook and realized that I should have checked first for the little swimmerets under the tail: the male’s are “clean and pointed,” whereas the female’s are “fringed with hair”—a test that is not easy to execute when the creature is wriggling desperately. I have always preferred steaming to boiling, because that way the lobster doesn’t get too immersed in water, and the small amount of steaming water becomes more intense. So I hauled down my largest pot, and arranged a collapsible steamer inside it.

I’m sure every cook who loves Italian food has a special recipe for osso buco. But I’m not so sure that anyone has a recipe to serve one, because it’s not the sort of thing you make for just one person. But it’s simple to reduce. The crucial factor is the pot; you need that heavy 4-cup pot with its own lid, so that your shank piece just fits into it and the liquid level stays almost to the top of the meat while it is simmering. That way, you don’t require too much cooking liquid, and the flavor develops intensity. I sometimes make this on a Saturday afternoon, when an Italian opera is playing on the radio, and just hearing the singing and smelling the osso buco as it perks away on the stove heightens my anticipation of a lovely meal to come.

I learned from Claudia Roden, who brought the secrets of Middle Eastern cooking to this country in the 1960s, how to make this invaluable preserve, which adds zest to so many dishes. I even find that you can use a little of it in place of fresh lemons to perk up a dish.

This is a good way to make use of those unnecessarily large bouquets of parsley that we get at our supermarkets, as well as fennel fronds that usually go to waste.

This nourishing bulgur-wheat salad provides a satisfying way of using up some of the huge bunch of parsley that the supermarket foisted on you. If it’s wintertime and you don’t have access to fresh mint, use 1/2 teaspoon dried mint and stir it into the still-warm bulgur after you’ve drained it, so the mint will have a chance to expand and release its flavor.

It is so easy to make a vinaigrette, the classic French salad dressing, that I can’t fathom why so many people living alone go out and buy bottled dressings. Not only do they pay more, but the dressing never tastes as fresh, and you can’t vary the seasonings as you wish. So I beg you to make your own vinaigrette as part of your cooking life. The amounts I’m giving will be enough to dress two or three small salads, but you can double or triple the quantities if you’re an avid salad consumer and want enough dressing to see you through the week. Just refrigerate the extra in a jar, tightly sealed.

Every now and then, I get a yearning for a bit of warm, smooth, buttery-lemony hollandaise sauce to dip artichoke leaves into, to top a poached egg with so that I can enjoy that delicious flavor play of eggs Benedict, or to spread over a piece of grilled salmon—or other fish. But to make a small amount for just one or two servings of this tricky sauce (and then reheat what’s leftover)? Impossible, the pros would say. However, where there’s a will, there’s a way. So I experimented and managed to work out a method that served my purposes beautifully. Here it is.

If you’ve tasted a well-made avgolemono with its velvety texture and lemony flavor, you’ll long to make it at home. And it’s so simple, particularly if you’ve just boned a chicken breast and have the rib cage handy, or if you have some chicken broth in your freezer.

I like this in winter with rice, or with mashed potatoes mixed, maybe, with mashed parsnip or another root vegetable. In summer, it’s good with almost anything from the garden.

Tart and tangy, lemon bars are one of those amazing desserts that seem to please everyone. Maybe it’s because bars are easy to serve and highly portable, a clever cross between a cookie and pie. The key to a good lemon bar is a strong citrus flavor. You’ll want your mouth to pucker in delight! When choosing your lemons, be sure to pick ones that are vibrant in color and feel somewhat heavy in the hand. Also, when zesting, be sure you only get the yellow part, as the white part is very bitter.

“Oh, my darling, oh, my darling”—you’ll be singing this sweet, sweet song until you bite into this, one of our favorite cakes. Then you’ll forget all about singing and focus your attention on the delicious citrus flavor mixed ever so delicately in a moist white cake. A cross between sweet oranges and Chinese mandarins, clementines add a touch of unexpected sweetness—and are what make the cake, in our opinion. Pun intended.

This recipe was a favorite of Sandy’s Granny Haley. Sandy remembers how Granny Haley would serve this cake whenever anyone would come by for a Sunday afternoon visit over coffee or tea. The subtly sweet cake was the perfect snack and accompaniment to their ever sweeter conversation. Most people don’t have sour milk on hand, so here’s a simple way to make some. Combine 2/3 cup milk and 2/3 teaspoon white vinegar or lemon juice, and let it sit for 10 minutes before using.

The area where Sandy grew up in the Rio Grande Valley is one of the best places in the nation for growing citrus. There is something about the soil, climate, and constant sunshine that lends itself to perfect citrus farming. Sandy’s dad Max worked the citrus farms, and every year Sandy would go out with her dad to the farms to help him harvest and to sample the goods! It’s only natural that when developing recipes, Sandy wanted to pull from this fond memory. This wonderfully delicious spin on traditional blintzes has all the great taste but without all the work. Forget the trial and error; use this surefire recipe to woo your crowd.