I love a little tipple before dinner, especially in the summer. It just feels a little indulgent, leisurely. The apéritif was actually a 19^th century invention for the purpose of delivering extremely bitter, malaria-fighting quinine. Herbs and spices were added to mask the disagreeable flavor and voilà! A French invention, of course. Although most agree that 18^th-century Italians were well versed in the aperitivo. Campari is a perfect example of such a slightly bitter and agreeably complex concoction. I use the word tipple because the apéritif is a light drink, a small amount of alcohol just to awaken the appetite. (For you tee-totallers out there, I am going to do a post on the non-alcoholic versions very soon.) I personally love Lillet, technically called a tonic wine because of the addition of a liqueur of Chinchona bark from Peru which contains quinine.

You can create your own version, by steeping citrus fruit in rosé with a few spices. Julia Moskin, in her fantastic online DIY cooking handbook for the New York Times, provides a great recipe, adapted from London chef Sally Clarke. The original version is made with Seville oranges, which I happened to have on hand from making marmalade. Julia adapts it with more readily available citrus. It has a powerful flavor that develops during a 6-week fermentation period. So, if you want to serve yours on July 4th, as I do, you’d better get cracking.

a lovely french rosé and a pile of seville oranges

Your citrus should be organic and clean, because anything on the peel will end up in the wine.

vanilla, cinnamon, cardamom and pink peppercorns

The original recipe calls only for vanilla and cinnamon, but I couldn’t resist adding my beloved cardamom and some pink peppercorns.

the color is a promise of lovely flavor to come

If you haven’t already, now may be the time to invest in some large glass wide-mouthed jars. I use them for everything, from making this wine, to fermenting sauerkraut to brewing sun tea. (Something like this.) Here’s to a perfect summer!

Salt is in the zeitgeist. Although the stuff has been around literally forever (read this book on its fascinating history), it’s being particularly fetishized at this moment. No fewer than 3 people gave me salt this holiday season, bringing my collection to 18 different types! A couple of the gifts came from the same store: The Meadow, on Hudson Street in New York City. Jennifer Turner Bitterman and her husband “selmelier” Mark Bitterman founded this boutique in Portland in 2006. It specializes in salt, chocolate, flowers and wine (though on a recent visit I noticed only bitters; more on those later). The assortment of salts is truly mind-blowing. From Bengal Blue to Smoked Red Alder, there are more than 100 types, sourced from all over the world. The most instantly striking thing in the store are blocks and slabs of pink Himalayan salt, big translucent pieces for cooking and serving food. You can arrange sashimi on a chilled brick of the stuff and watch the edges of the fish turn pale and firm as it actually cures right there. Or heat a block on the stove or the barbeque and grill thin slices of flank steak for a unique and delicately salty flavor. I can’t wait to try this!

the meadow is a sunny sliver of a shop on hudson street

from left: curry, haleakala ruby, celtic, ginger sea salt, iburi jio cherry and soy salts

The Meadow’s collection of salts is sold as “finishing salts.” Essentially, this means you aren’t supposed to lob great handfuls of it into your dishes. The flavors range from subtle to quite intense and are meant to be layered atop a dish as a final accent.

The Iburi Jio Cherry, for instance, is a Japanese smoked sea salt that has a richly smoky, almost bacony aroma and flavor. At $31 for a teensy jar, you want to use this wisely. Why so expensive? It’s premium quality sea salt that’s collected from the unpolluted, deep sea waters off the shores of the Oga Peninsula in Akita Prefecture in northern Japan, then slowly crystallized in a large pot over a fire of pure cherry wood for three days. It was inspired by this prefecture’s famed iburi-gakko, a smoked and pickled daikon radish. Artisanal, baby. The result is rich in magnesium, calcium and potassium, which add to its complex flavor. It’s heaven sprinkled over steamed Japanese rice; over chocolate ice cream it’s insane.

lunch is avocado on a spelt cracker finished with soy salt

The chocolate-brown, pleasantly chunky soy salt is deliciously crunchy and the perfect counterpoint to buttery avocado. Other great mediums for letting the flavors of salt shine through are buttered bread, cucumbers, chocolate and mild cheeses like ricotta and cottage. Stumped for other places to sprinkle your salt? On soups, scrambled eggs, fish, grilled meats, ceviches, popcorn, fruit (melon with salt is sublime; so are mangoes and apples, for that matter), yogurt (I used the curry salt for this and it was amazing), salads, etc, etc.

With beautiful citrus in full swing now, here is a simple and classic cocktail you can customize with one of your new finishing salts.

SALTY DOG

makes one drink

2 ounces gin

4 ounces fresh grapefruit juice

finishing salt, like Taha’s Vanilla or Maboroshi Plum or any good quality sea salt

lemon or lime wedge

Swipe the rim of a cold rocks glass or wine glass with a wedge of lemon or lime. Coat the rim with salt.

Shake grapefruit juice and gin together over ice. Pour the whole thing into the salted glass. (I like mine served on the rocks.) Squeeze in a bit of lime or lemon and toss in the wedge.

Wouldn’t you know, on the day we leave the country to spend time in the city, here comes the snow?! It hasn’t quite started yet, but G says we even need to be prepared for the possibility that the Broadway show for which we have tickets tonight may be cancelled. I don’t feel bad for my sake, especially since we already saw Fela last year, but it was to be a special treat for my sister and niece. Fingers crossed. We’re expecting feet of snow. G and I are on our way to Todos Santos, on the Baja peninsula for a little R&R. I’ll be sorry to miss the snowshoeing and cross-country skiing possibilities, but I can’t really complain. There will be more snow in our future. In the meantime, a few suggestions for keeping warm as you huddle indoors, safe from the biting winds and plummeting temperatures.

part therapy, part cocktail

Hot toddies are traditionally drunk before going to bed, or in wet or inclement weather. Once believed to help cure the common cold and even the flu, the American Lung Association now recommends you avoid treating these illnesses with anything containing alcohol as it causes dehydration. I’m not sure about its curative properties, but a hot toddy will warm you from top to bottom. And I do find it can work wonders on a sore throat.

The traditional recipe calls for pouring a shot of Scotch into a cup and adding boiling water, a spoonful of honey, half a slice of lemon, two cloves and a cinnamon stick.  Steep for three to five minutes before enjoying.

Here are some variations on the theme, as well as a couple of recipes for other warming drinks that go down like a charm when you’re fighting a chill.

HOT TODDY

serves 1

1 ounce (2 tablespoons) bourbon

1 tablespoon honey

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup boiling water

Put bourbon, honey, and lemon juice in a mug. Top off with hot water and stir until honey is dissolved.

Variations: substitute rum; add ginger; make tea with the water first (Darjeeling is nice)

HOT BUTTERED RUM

serves 1

2 or 3 ounces dark rum

twist of lemon peel

1 cinnamon stick

2 cloves

Sweet cider or water

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon sweet butter

nutmeg

Put the rum, lemon peel, cinnamon and cloves in a pewter tankard or any heavy 12-ounce mug that has been rinsed in very hot water to warm it. Heat the cider or water to the boiling point and pour into the spiced rum. Add the honey and the pat of butter and stir well. Grate a little nutmeg on top.

GLÖGG

[Swedish Mulled Wine]

1.5 liter bottle of dry red wine  (something decent)

1.5 liter bottle of port (ditto)

1 bottle of inexpensive brandy

10 cinnamon sticks

1 tablespoon cardamom seeds

18 whole cloves

Peel of one orange

1/2 cup raisins

1 cup blanched almonds

2 cups sugar

A second orange peel for garnishing

Pour wine and port into stainless steel or porcelain pot. Add cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, orange peel, raisins, and almonds. Warm gently; do not boil as this burns off the alcohol.

Place sugar in a separate pan. Soak with half the bottle of brandy. Warm sugar and brandy over low heat. Let sugar melt and bubble until it becomes a golden syrup of caramelized sugar.

Add caramelized sugar to spiced wine mix. Cover and let mull for an hour. Before serving, strain to remove spices; add brandy to taste. Warm gently over low heat. Garnish mugs of glögg with fresh orange peel.

Substitutions: dried cherries for the raisins; whiskey or bourbon in place of brandy; brown sugar instead of white.

MULLED WINE

Serves 4

1 large orange

2 cardamom pods

6 whole cloves

6 allspice berries

6 whole black peppercorns

1 cinnamon stick, plus 4 for garnish (optional)

1 bottle (3 cups) fruity red wine

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup brandy

With a fine grater, zest, then juice the orange.

With the flat side of a knife, press firmly on the cardamom pods to bruise them. In a large pot (not aluminum), combine zest, juice, cardamom, cloves, allspice, peppercorns, cinnamon, wine, sugar, and brandy. Cook over medium heat, stirring, until sugar dissolves, 1 to 2 minutes.

Reduce heat to low; simmer until flavors have melded, about 30 minutes. Pour through a fine-mesh sieve; garnish with cinnamon stick, if desired. Serve immediately.

I’m a sucker for citrus. It’s such a relief when oranges, grapefruit and lemons begin flooding in from California and Florida at this time of year. Although I adore very tart lemons, I love the lightly sweeter and more perfumey Meyer variety. Their smooth, thin skin is an electric golden yellow that seems to compensate, just a bit, for the lack of sunshine these days. I grabbed an armload at Fairway yesterday and, since they are a bit fragile and don’t keep for so long, I’m going to immediately turn them into syrup and marmalade. The former will make wonderfully refreshing spritzers, especially with the addition of fresh rosemary. The latter will nicely cut through the rich fattiness of roasts or perhaps even our Christmas goose. And, of course, you can always preserve some lemons, as I’ve done again this year. Here’s a recipe from last spring, along with one for chicken tagine, and a place to order organic Meyer lemons, if you’re so inclined.

This year I added some lightly toasted coriander seeds, green peppercorns, cinnamon sticks and a couple of bay leaves for a bit more complex spicing. Chopped preserved lemon rind is delicious mixed into rice, vegetable salads and all manner of mayonnaises and dressings.

It may seem a bit confusing, but citrus foods are not acidifying to the body; they are, in fact, an alkalinizing food and an excellent detoxifier. Try making this zesty syrup, and use it as indicated for spritzers or in a cocktail, or drizzled over pancakes, pound cake or lemon ice cream.

MEYER LEMON ROSEMARY SPRITZER

makes 6

4 cups water

1/2 cup sugar, or equal amount mild honey

6 Meyer lemons, thinly sliced (remove seeds if you like)

3 rosemary sprigs

4 1/2 cups sparkling water, chilled

Bring water and sugar (or honey) to a gentle boil in a large saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add lemon slices and rosemary sprigs. Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat. Let stand for an hour or so. Strain and discard solids. Return liquid to pan, and boil until reduced by half, 5-10 minutes. Cool completely. Fill each of 6 glasses with ice cubes and 3/4 cup sparkling water. Stir 1/4 cup syrup into each.

Here’s a very simple recipe for Meyer lemon marmalade. If you don’t want to get all involved in canning, you can  just make a smaller quantity to keep in your fridge. And for truly divine decadence, here’s a recipe for Meyer lemon curd. Want to save on fat and calories without sacrificing too much flavor? Scroll down here for my lowfat lemon curd recipe. As a rule of thumb, any time you want to substitute regular lemons for Meyer, just add a little more sugar or honey to compensate.

I guess you can’t call them ice cubes if they’re round, huh? If you’re not already familiar with the craze for super-large blocks of ice in cocktails, let this be your introduction. Although I’m no expert in the matter, I believe this concept originated with the Japanese. Let’s face it, from tea to little girls’ undies, no one takes a fetish further. For them, it was all about the ultimate glass of whiskey. The way to drink it cold but undiluted was poured over a large, perfectly spherical and very-slow-melting ice ball. In an aggressive but skilled fashion, Japanese bartenders—and some local copycats—actually carve them out of solid blocks of ice. (If you doubt me, see here.) For a slightly less dangerous approach, with strikingly similar results, you can simply use Muji’s spherical silicone mold. The countless “Penicillin” cocktails I’ve enjoyed at Momofuku Ssam—and also recreated at home—finally convinced me to try the big ice thing. At Momofuku they use blocks, but these round ones work just fine. They’re about 3 inches in diameter.

The molds, made of thick, pliable white silicone, come in two pieces. They’re not the easiest things in the world to maneuver, so be sure to run them under hot water to loosen them before you start prying the two sides apart.

The Muji site also suggests you use the molds for “jelly.” Not exactly sure what they have in mind, but could be interesting.

The spheres actually look really beautiful in a glass. Try them in this delicious seasonal cocktail, which I’ve dubbed Apple of Your Eye. Or just try the cocktail. Gigantic ice may not be your particular fetish.

APPLE OF YOUR EYE

makes 1 cocktail

1 ounce cider syrup (recipe below)

1 ounce fresh lemon juice

2 ounces Calvados

Pour into shaker with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled rocks glass, preferably (but not necessarily) over a large ice sphere. Garnish with a twist of orange peel.

CIDER SYRUP

2 cups organic apple cider

1 tablespoon dark muscovado sugar

1 tablespoon grade B maple syrup

3 star anise

Stir ingredients together in a small saucepan and bring to a strong simmer. Reduce by half. Cool before using.

Yes, yes, I know I’ve already chewed your ear about the wonders of the Concord grape, but I simply must convince you somehow of the absolute necessity of getting your hands on these beauties before they slip away. Run, don’t walk, to your nearest farmers market and buy great heaps of them. If nothing else, you will swoon at the smell, perfuming whatever room you set them in. I just learned that they are known as Vitis labrusca, the “fox grape,” because of their special “foxy musk,” a candied-strawberry aroma that verges on the pornographic. Be very jealous, because our nearby Riverbrook Farm also grows a green variety called Himrod that is every bit as voluptuous and tangy and is actually seedless. I can’t decided which color I have a bigger crush on. I made juice with the green and sorbet with the purple, and you’ll be doing yourself a favor if you try both. Plus they’re full of flavonoids and positively bursting with antioxidant benefits.

himrod grape juice (yes, I know it rhymes with nimrod)

The technique for making juice and sorbet is essentially the same, and it’s no big deal. You need grapes, patience, a large pot and a strainer. I learned that you can’t preserve (or “can”) the juice without adding a bunch of sugar, but you could probably freeze it, or just drink it now, as I’m doing. I made a delicious cocktail with bourbon, grape juice and basil muddled in a little lime juice. Let’s call it the Grape Crush. (I just googled that and it already exists, but it’s made with vodka, Chambord and sour mix–horrors! I don’t believe it deserves to live.)

FRESH GRAPE JUICE

I made about 1 1/2 litres from a flat of grapes.

Lots of grapes

lemons

agave nectar

Rinse the grapes and remove them from the stems. Place them in a large, heavy-bottomed pot and mash them really well with an immersion blender or potato masher. Then cook them over moderate heat for about 20 minutes. Cool and then pass through a fine mesh strainer, pushing hard on the solids until you can’t do it any more. Stir in a a little agave nectar (a tablespoon per litre?) and the juice of a lemon and taste for balance. Store in your fridge.

And here, once more, is the recipe for the divine sorbet. It’s the perfect mouthful of summer-into-fall…

CONCORD GRAPE SORBET

adapted from Meredith Kurtzman,

the inspired pastry chef at Mario Batali’s Otto restaurant

serves 8

1 teaspoon fennel seeds

1 teaspoon fennel pollen

2 lbs Concord grapes

1/2 cup organic sugar

juice of 4 lemons

2 generous pinches of sea salt

1/2 cup agave nectar

2/3 cup water

Lightly toast the fennel seeds in a small skillet over a low flame, and then coarsely grind in a mortar and pestle. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the grapes, sugar, lemon juice, salt, ground fennel seeds and fennel pollen, and mash well with an immersion blender or potato masher. Cover and refrigerate overnight or for at least 6 hours (the longer it steeps, the more deeply purple it becomes).

Remove from fridge and push mixture through a fine strainer into another bowl, discarding solids. Stir in agave nectar and water. Taste and add more lemon juice and/or salt as needed.

Chill for at least 6 more hours in refrigerator, then process in your ice-cream maker. Transfer to an airtight container and place in freezer to firm up for 1 to 2 hours.

Few things are worse than a summer cold. The usual trajectory for me is straight from a terrible sore throat to an aggravated chest cough. Lying in bed, feverish and tangled in the sheets, there’s nothing I crave more than an icy lemonade. So I stumbled into the kitchen, squeezed 2/3 cup of lemon juice and poured that along with an almost equal amount of raw blue agave nectar into the blender. Then I filled it up with ice, added a cup of water and processed it into a crystalline slurpie. Heaven. With that and a good book (and an antibiotic if need be), I’m on the mend.

Meet lovage (Levisticum officinale), known to the French as céleri bâtarde, or fake celery. It really is like celery but without the stalk; its lush leaves have a very similar green, herby, slightly salty flavor. Since it’s considered a “magic bullet” companion plant—one that improves the health of all surrounding plants—it always has pride of place in our vegetable garden. It’s second only to capers in its concentration of quercetin, a plant-derived flavonoid that has anti-infammatory and antioxidant properties. The Greeks and Romans chewed lovage seeds to aid digestion and, perhaps because of its name, lovage has been used in tonics and potions to conjure up true love. An infusion of the seeds is said to to erase freckles, although it may also cause photosensitivity. The plant grows easily and quickly; pinch it back to make it bushier and to deter the flower spikes. Once they start showing, the flavor becomes quite strong. Use the leaves to make a compound butter, in soups and stocks or, our favorite way, in a simple syrup. This is ideal for cocktails or simply mixed in with sparkling water for a refreshing summer drink.

For our 4th of July party, I decided to create a cocktail that featured this rather unusual herb and I came across a bottle of celery bitters that accentuated it nicely. These flavors seemed to cry out for gin, Hendrick’s to be specific, with its gentle whiff of cucumbers, coriander and rose petals. The addition of fresh lemon juice brightened it up and a deliciously cooling summer cocktail was born! All it required was a name, and G supplied that: Lovage You Long Time. Who says we don’t have fun at our house? It was as much of a hit as last year’s Smashing Summer, with fewer than 20 people downing more than 40 of them (that’s almost 3 bottles of gin) in under an hour! There were no ill effects.

LOVAGE YOU LONG TIME

You can shake an individual cocktail, or make up a pitcher, stir well and pour over ice.

1 part lovage syrup (recipe follows)

1 part fresh lemon juice

2 parts Hendrick’s gin

Stemmed, seeded & sliced jalapeño, optional

Shake first 3 ingredients with ice and pour into a rocks glass. Garnish with a slice of jalapeño, if desired.

the sour cherry syrup also went well with gin or soda water

LOVAGE SYRUP

makes 2 cups

2 cups organic cane sugar

2 cups water

2 packed cups lovage (leaves & stems)

In a small, heavy saucepan, combine water and sugar over medium heat until sugar has completely dissolved. Remove from heat, stir in lovage and cover. Allow to steep for several hours; check after 3 hours to see if syrup’s flavor has the intensity you like. If not, steep longer. This depends on your taste and on how strong the leaves taste. I steeped mine for about 5 hours this time.

Chaats are Indian snacks and appetizers, a sort of street food that is widely welcomed indoors as well. In India, there are restaurants that specialize entirely in chaat. When I told our driver in Jaipur that I wanted to eat chaat from a street stall, he raised his brows in horror and whisked G and me to an air-conditioned restaurant where we sat amongst Indian families and had delicious sweet-tart-spicy-crunchy treats accompanied by cooling lassi. Chaat is Hindi for “to taste,” and mostly consists of small dishes, often easy to eat by hand or off banana leaves on the street. As with Indian cuisine in general, chaats are quite diverse, with many regional specialties, but quite a few are fried, like pakoras and samosas, and some are stuffed breads. Dipping sauces and raita are key to the whole experience.

Many of these dishes are flavored with chaat masala, a combination of spices that varies from person to person and place to place. I buy mine pre-made (Kalustyan’s yet again) and it contains salt, amchur (mango powder), musk melon, cumin, black pepper, pomegranate seed, coriander, mint, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, chile, caraway, ajowain (a relative of coriander), cloves, hing and bay leaf. Hing? you ask.

black salt

Hing is asafoetida, alternately known as devil’s dung and food of the gods. It’s made from the resin of an herbaceous plant (Ferula assafoetida) and has a strong, unpleasant smell when raw. In cooked dishes, however, it delivers a smooth flavor, reminiscent of leeks. A digestive aid, it also helps fight asthma and the flu. Elsewhere, it is used as a scent bait for catfish and pike, and rubbed on a baby’s fontanel to ward off evil spirits. This stuff is potent and compelling, highly umami.

Black salt, known in Hindi as kala namak, is another highly pungent condiment widely used in India. It’s not really black, more of a pale purple color from its high iron sulphide content. It has the sulfurous smell associated with hard-boiled eggs (some say rotten eggs) and the particular taste that is essential to chaat masala.

puffed rice

Bhel puri is a popular chaat, often sold in little paper cups on the street in India. It is an addictive mix of sweet-&-sour, spicy and salty, featuring puffed rice and little crunchy noodles called sev, made from lentil flour. You can find these both at any Indian market. This needs to be eaten immediately upon mixing it together, much like you eat cereal right after pouring on the milk. Below the recipe for bhel puri is one for a simpler chickpea chaat that can be made ahead. And I’ve also included a recipe for another lassi, this one with saffron and cardamom. Try one with some chaat on a hot day, and plan your next vacation in India.

Soon we’ll be hot, sweaty and reaching for something refreshing as we push through the swinging door into the screened-in porch, the smell of summer still on us. Another of the thirst-quenchers I’ll have on hand is this Tamarind-Lime Cooler. The agave nectar balances the tartness of the lime and tamarind, and the sweet-spicy Chile Salt really kicks it up a notch. These are the flavors of summer in Guadalajara, in Bangkok, in your own backyard…