Friday, January 20, 2012

Oranges always command significant territory on produce counters, so it's easy to imagine that they are always in season. Since they don't grow in the Valley there's no local harvest to countervail this assumption. But those who flee to Florida in the cold months know that winter is the time when the dark-leaved orange trees produce their golden-globe fruit, so school groups offer fundraiser boxes of oranges straight from southern groves and supermarkets have orange specials. And, of course, oranges are not just cheaper when they are in season - they are tastier too.

Perhaps because a huge part of the orange harvest is consumed as juice, oranges don't always get credit for their versatility, but with their sweet-acid taste and their aromatic flavors they can play starring or supporting culinary roles with equal grace. Most often they appear in cakes and sweet dishes including elegant desserts such as the French Crepes Suzette, Italian caramelized oranges, Spanish Orange and Almond tarta, and a myriad chocolate and orange confections. But the bitter tang of the skin and the tartness of the juice give backbone to classic sauces such as Maltaise sauce and the various orange sauces served with duck.

In fact, the earliest use of oranges in the northern regions where they don't grow was in savory dishes. Our earliest English recipes (from the late 14th century) often suggest squeezing an orange over fish and meat. Quite often this orange spritz was listed with spices such as cinnamon, ginger, cloves and nutmegs because, like spices, oranges only arrived in the north after long journeys from distant southern and eastern ports.

Their native home is China, and as late as the 19th century they were hawked in the streets of London as "China oranges." In Puerto Rico, where oranges grow semi-wild, the cry of "Chinas!" brings people from their houses to the pickup trucks that drive round the streets selling oranges. While the Spanish-speaking Puerto Ricans use this old word, the English word orange comes from the Spanish word naranja, which became "norange" in English, and then eventually orange. No surprise then those oranges reached England from Spain, where they had been introduced by the Arabs who ruled there in the Middle Ages. The Spanish also brought oranges to the New World. Christopher Columbus took their seeds to Haiti on his second voyage in 1493, Juan Ponce de Leon introduced them to Florida in 1513, and Spanish Franciscans planted them in California in 1769. Notably, Florida and California remain America's biggest orange producers, and still today, Britain and most northern European countries get most of their oranges from Spain.

In those earlier centuries when oranges were making their way northward and westward they were such an exotic delight that legends wreathed around them. One attractive feature of the beautiful trees is that the blossoms appear at the same time as the fruit. Renaissance iconographers took this as a symbol of the Virgin Mary, the white flower signaling virginity, the round fruit her fertility, and the perfume of both flower and fruit signifying holiness. Thus it is that many 15th-, 16th- and 17th-century paintings of the Madonna and Child have either orange trees in the background or an orange sprig complete with leaves, flower and fruit, sitting nearby or even held in the mother's or baby's hand. On the earthly level, the golden color of oranges suggested opulence, especially in the more northerly areas of their cultivation such as Italy, where five oranges were the symbol of the Medici family, which made its money from banking. Likewise, the three golden balls on the traditional pawnbroker's sign derive from the orange.

All the early oranges were tart. They were valued for their aromas and for their use with meat. Of the tart oranges, Seville oranges are used as rootstock by growers, and in Greece and Spain rows of them decorate the streets, the fruit falling and lying neglected by local residents who have better oranges to eat. The British, however, have taken it to their hearts because this bitter orange is perfect for making marmalade, which surely counts as a national dish.

Among the sweet oranges, varieties abound. Tangerines and clementines were developed in North Africa, the tangerine taking its name from the city of Tangiers, and the clementine from Père Clément, the priest who developed it. Mandarin oranges are so-called because their color suggests a Chinese mandarin's robes, while kumquats, the tiny orange you can eat skin and all, are kam quat in Chinese, which means gold orange. Blood oranges have made their way to America only recently. They may or may not have a red blush on the skin, but inside they are streaked with crimson or they may be entirely red, sometimes so intensely that they are the color of wine. They come from the island of Malta, and give their name to the French sauce Maltaise, which is served with fish or with green vegetables such as asparagus and chard. They are also good for eating and juicing.

With oranges now at their best and their stash of vitamin C such a winter health benefit, try some orange recipes. Here are some suggestions.

Sauce Maltaise

In classic French cuisine Sauce Maltaise is made by adding the juice of a blood orange to 1 cup of hollandaise. A common alternative is a mayonnaise made with blood orange juice instead of lemon juice. From the island of Malta, which gives its name to the sauce, comes the following version adapted from a recipe by Anne and Helen Caruana in their book "The Food and Cookery of Malta" (Prospect Books). They suggest serving it with fish, prawns or hot vegetables.

1 blood orange plus extra juice if needed

2 tablespoons heavy cream

6 tablespoons chilled butter

2 egg yolks

Pinch salt

Pinch white pepper

Using a zester strip the zest from the orange. Save a few long strips for garnish and chop the rest. Halve it and squeeze out the juice. Set aside. Whip the cream so that it is cloud-like rather than stiff. Set aside. Cut the butter into 12 evenly sized pieces. Set aside.

Place the yolks in a bowl that will sit over a saucepan of simmering water without touching the water. Add the salt, pepper, 1 piece of the butter, and half the juice into the bowl; set it over the water, and whisk until it has thickened. Add the rest of the butter, one piece at a time, and continue whisking until the sauce is very thick. Stir in the chopped zest and the rest of the juice. Taste and add more salt if needed, and a little extra juice if you want it. Finally stir in the cream. Use the strips of zest to garnish your dish.

Orange and Date Salad

Mediterranean countries have many orange salads, most of them simple combinations. Savory salads include oranges and black olives or with rings of purple onion or shredded carrots. Dessert salads combine oranges with pomegranate seeds, nuts, or in this case, dates. Often orange-flower water is used to flavor sweet orange dishes. Specialty groceries and Middle Eastern stores sell it. Its scent is strong, so use it a little at a time to make sure you don't overdo it. Vanilla is an alternative in this recipe. A dusting of cinnamon is another option.

4 large oranges

1-2 tablespoons confectioner's sugar

½#1 teaspoon orange flower water or 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

6 Medjool dates

Peel the oranges as if they were apples: that is, peel them circularly so you strip off a spiral combining both skin and all the white pith. You need to end up with a peeled orange that has no trace of white fiber on it. Slice it into circles about 1/3-inch thick. Do this over a bowl or plate so you catch the juice. If some circles break, cut them in bite-size pieces and put them in a shallow bowl. Sift about 1 teaspoon of confectioner's sugar over them. Arrange the whole circles concentrically on top and sift 2 teaspoons of confectioner's sugar on them. Mix any juice with the orange flower water, using just half a teaspoon at first, and tasting to make sure of its strength before using more. Alternately, mix the vanilla extract with the juice. Drizzle the flavored juice on the oranges. Let stand for a couple of hours, basting once or twice with the juice. Taste and sift on more sugar if you like or add more flavoring. For serving, cut four of the dates in half and discard the pits. Cut each half into 4 strips or chop and scatter them attractively on the oranges. Arrange the remaining dates in the center. Serve chilled with more confectioners' sugar sifted on top just before it goes to the table.

Spanish Orange and Almond Cake

This cake is made with ground almonds rather than flour, so it is a good choice for people with a wheat allergy. It's deliciously orangey. The cake is not huge, but a little goes a long way because the syrup is sweet and the almonds are dense. Make this a day in advance so the liquid can soak in.

4 eggs, separated

½ cup sugar

Grated zest of 1 orange

1 cup ground almonds (or almond meal)

For the syrup

1 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

¼ cup sugar

1 cinnamon stick

1 tablespoon orange liqueur (optional)

2 tablespoons sliced almonds

Thin strips of orange zest

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease an 8- or 9-inch cake pan, and place parchment paper on the base. (If you have a loose-based or springform pan, use it.)

Thoroughly mix the egg yolks with the sugar, orange zest and he ground almonds. Whisk the egg whites until stiff and fold them into the almond mixture. Spread it in the prepared pan and bake for 40-45 minutes or until its golden and a skewer poked into the middle comes out clean. Let cool, and then remove it to a serving plate. (It will sink somewhat in the center).

To make the syrup, put the juice, sugar and cinnamon stick in a pan, stir and simmer for 4-5 minutes or until syrupy. Stir in the liqueur if using it. Poke holes all over the surface of the cake. Pour the syrup on it and leave for several hours until the syrup has been absorbed.

For serving, toast the sliced almonds either in a heavy-bottomed frying pan over medium heat (they take about 4 minutes) or in a shallow bowl in a microwave (they take 1-2 minutes). They should be fawn colored and aromatic not dark brown, so stop cooking as soon as they reach this color. Sprinkle them on the cake just before serving. Add a few strips of orange zest in the center. Make them by drawing a zester over the peel of one of the orange you use for making the juice.

Crepes Suzette

Legend has it that the chef offered to dedicate this newly invented dessert to King Edward VII, but he gallantly suggested that Suzette, his lady companion that night, receive the compliment instead. This dessert used to be a specialty of fancy restaurants, often flamboyantly made table side, and extravagantly priced. In fact the only expensive ingredients are the liquors and you need very little of them. Crepes Suzettes are easy to make, and if flaming them scares you, don't bother; just let the orange sauce cook long enough to drive off the alcohol.

For the pancakes:

2 eggs

2/3 cup milk

½ teaspoon vanilla essence

1 cup plain flour

Melted butter for greasing the pan.

For the orange sauce:

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons sugar

2/3 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

2 tablespoons orange liqueur such as Cointreau or Triple Sec

2 tablespoons Kirsch or brandy

Thin strips of orange zest

Mix the eggs, milk and vanilla essence. Put the flour in a bowl, make a well in the center, pour in the liquid ingredients and whisk into a smooth batter. Grease a 7-inch frying pan with a little butter, heat over high heat and make 8 pancakes. To do this pour a little of the batter in the pan and quickly tip the pan so it flows all over the bottom. Cook for about 2 minutes or until the top surface is mostly dry and covered with holes the size of a pin prick. Flip and cook the other side for just one minute. As you take them from the pan, fold them into wedge-shaped quarters, and set aside.

To make the sauce, mix the orange liqueur and kirsch together. Wearing an oven mitt to protect your hands, in a pan, melt the butter and stir in the sugar and the orange juice. When it bubbles, add half the mixed liqueurs and tip the pan toward the flame (if using a gas stove), or carefully light it with a match. Let the flames die and put the pancakes into the mixture. Cook over low heat for 2-3 minutes, then add the remaining liqueur, and light again as before. Serve immediately, garnished with strips of orange zest. Serves 4

Seville oranges are the best for making marmalade, but are rarely, if ever, encountered in this country. Fortunately you can make good marmalade from sweet oranges such as Valencia or navel oranges, or, if you want its characteristic bitter tang, you can combine oranges with grapefruit as in this recipe. You can make dark Oxford marmalade from this recipe simply by adding 1-2 tablespoon of molasses along with the sugar.

2 very large or 3 medium navel oranges

1 medium ruby red grapefruit

5 cups water

About 5-6 cups sugar

Juice 1 lemon

Wash the oranges and grapefruit. Cut in quarters or sixths then slice either very thinly or as thick as 1/3 inch if you like chunky marmalade. Put all the fruit in a very large pan such as a pasta pan and add the water. Simmer for about 2 hours or until the peel is tender. To test, remove a piece of peel; let it cool; rub it between your thumb and forefinger; it should separate into 2 pieces. If not, simmer longer. When it is ready, measure it. For every cupful of the mixture add a cupful of sugar. (The mixture should come only about a third of the way up the pan at most because you need room for it to boil. If necessary, switch to a larger pan. ) Stir it over low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Test by tapping the base of the pan with a wooden spoon. You shouldn't hear a crunchy sound. Add the lemon juice. Boil as rapidly as you can, stirring often, until it reaches setting point - about 10-15 minutes. To test for setting, chill a plate in the freezer. Take a spoonful of the marmalade hold it over the pan and tip it back in. If the final 2 or 3 drops coalesce before falling into the pan, it is probably set. To make sure, drop a spoonful on the chilled plate. Let it cool, then tip the plate. If the surface of the blob wrinkles, then it is set. Remove from the heat and leave for about 15 minutes. Stir to distribute the peel before putting into jars that have been sterilized by boiling them in a large pan of water, or baking them in a 300 degree oven. This makes about 5-6 half-pint jars.