The River Café's Strawberry Lemon Sorbet

On a weekend with no set plans, it is always a good idea to come up with a project. Now, that was not always the case, but since we have a toddler in our midst we must be prepared to be terrifically entertaining at all times. Baking cookies is a hit with Fe., but who wants to turn on the oven in the middle of summer?

Not I, said the fly.

An equally thrilling -- and I don't use the word lightly -- kitchen adventure is to mix up a vat of ice cream. There literally were squeals of delight throughout Sunday's frozen dessert caper. This is what people call a win-win situation, because Fe. was beside himself and I finally have my very first dessert to tell you about.

Hurray! It's about time.

So this wasn't technically ice cream. There wasn't any dairy in sight. It was sorbet, and a genius sorbet at that.

I recently stumbled across an exciting new column on Food 52 called Genius Recipes. The idea is to share recipes that are the best of the best, recipes that change how we cook and how we view cooking altogether. The first column touts the Strawberry Lemon Sorbet from The River Café Cookbook as life changing.

And it is, even if just for getting me to make my first batch of sorbet ever. It's also pretty stunning that just three ingredients -- strawberries, lemon and sugar -- can produce something so wholly marvelous. There is a bit of washing up afterwards, but really the process is a cinch. Fe. got to participate throughout. I now see pushing the pulse button on the food processor in an entirely different light.

One whole lemon (pith and peel included, just no seeds, please) and 2 whole cups of sugar (yikes!) are whizzed in the food processor to form a puckery slush, worthy of many finger dips. The mixture gets scraped into a bowl, and then the strawberries get their chance with the pulse button. The purée is added to the slush to the sound of many gleeful yelps. You taste for acidity and add the juice of one to two lemons depending on your appreciation of sour and sweet.

The dazzling red soup is poured into the ice cream maker and in about twenty-five minutes you have a frosty sweet strawberry summer treat. The flavor is banging strawberry with just a hint of tart lemon (I used the juice of two). I felt quite grateful for the zesty lemon, because this sorbet is sweet. Honestly, I'd like to try the recipe again with slightly less sugar, but it really is pretty terrific as is.

The River Café's Strawberry Lemon Sorbet

3 lemons

2 cups sugar

2 pounds strawberries, hulled

Chop one lemon into chunks, removing any seeds, and place it in the bowl of a food processor. Add two cups of sugar and pulse, until well mixed. Scrape mixture into a large bowl.

Add the strawberries to the food processor and purée. Add the strawberries to the lemon mixture along with the juice of one lemon. Stir. Taste for acidity and lemon flavor. Add more lemon juice if you like.

Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker and churn until frozen.

Makes 1 1/2 quarts

Preserved Lemons

Having a huge batch of duck confit tucked into the back of my refrigerator for six or so months gave a me a feeling of deep satisfaction and pride. It also caused my foot to start tapping anxiously, with me itching to crack into the solid white fat.

Having a large vat of preserved lemons always at the ready in your fridge will fill you with a similar sense of accomplishment without any of the niggling impatience. The most you'll be waiting is one little month, and if done right you might be flush with preserved lemons for a year.

Preserved lemons add a decidedly Moroccan flavor to any dish. You've probably encountered recipes for lamb shanks with prunes and preserved lemons, or chicken with olives and preserved lemons. Those dishes are fantastic, but you needn't always work that hard to enjoy the flavor of these beauties.

They add a wonderful salty tanginess to sautéed vegetables like spinach. They quickly add depth of character to a simple lemon vinaigrette. The lemons lend an exotic perfume when paired with capers on roasted fish. I've even read of people adding them to lemon ice cream!

I find preserved lemons to be endlessly useful in the kitchen. When I discover that my planned meal seems a bit humdrum, I turn to these lemons and everything -- the flavors and my spirits -- begins to perk up.

When your batch of preserved lemons is young, in its first few months, you might try using the flesh in your dishes. Some even say the juice from the fruit adds a bracing kick to a Bloody Mary. I can't vouch for this, but it does sound exciting. As they mature, you'll want to use the rind exclusively, discarding the flesh, and thinly slicing or finely chopping the rind.

There is no point in making a piddling batch of just four or five lemons. Do it right, and make an ample jug full of lemons. They should last up to a year. They'll keep in your pantry, but somehow I feel more confident with them in the refrigerator.

All you need is a heap of lemons, preferably the sweeter, thinner-skinned Meyers, but any lemons will do (all I've used is the common Eureka lemon, and I am definitely not complaining), a substantial amount of kosher salt, and a large wide-mouthed canning-type jar with a tight-fitting lid.

Some folks sterilize the jars. Will you forever doubt me, if I confess that sterilizing has me confounded? Probably. But no matter. Alice Waters, whom I trust on almost all topics, doesn't seem to bother sterilizing and neither did I. It's not just Waters. I'd say about fifty percent of the conversations and recipes that I researched were for sterilizing with the other half not. There's no debate about it. Some do and some don't. That's all. At the very least wash with lots of soap and very very hot water.

The process is really quite simple. You essentially tamp lemons full of salt, stuff them in a jar until they are as snug and cozy as possible, and make sure after a few days they are drowning in juice. You wait for a month or so and then enjoy.

To help in the motivation department, I'll be posting a few great recipes using your preserved lemons over the next week or so.

And by the way, these homemade preserved lemons are worlds better than the jarred ones that you might find at your local fancy-pants cheese shop. Just saying.

Preserved Lemons

Lemons (enough to fill a big jar)

Kosher salt

Wide-mouth jar with tight lid

Scrub the lemons thoroughly. Cut them in quarters, without cutting all the way through the stem end. Pack each lemon full of kosher salt. Pour a thin layer of salt in the bottom of the jar and then layer in the salt-packed lemons, pouring in some extra salt after each layer. Press down on the lemons with a metal spoon to help release some of the juices. When the jar is stuffed with lemons, add a final layer of salt and seal the jar. Leave on the counter for a few days to allow the lemon juices to release. You may turn the jar on its sides to help moisten all the lemons. If after 3 or 4 days, the lemons are not submerged, add additional lemon juice to cover. Store in the refrigerator or the pantry for a month or longer and then enjoy.

The lemons should keep for up to 1 year.

Shaved Fennel, Radish and Parmigiano Reggiano

I love this salad. It's crunchy and refreshing -- a little bit garlicky and a little bit salty.

I've been making it ever since Kelly and Mark of Kelly's French Pastry in Santa Cruz taught me about it in 1994.

This fennel salad is very simple to make and is almost always what I'm looking for when I want something acidic and bright to even out a meal. This might be the relief you need amidst all the upcoming stuffing, gravy, sweet potatoes, and creamed spinach.

Just suggesting.

You'll need fennel, radish, parmigiano reggiano, lemon, olive oil, garlic, and salt and pepper. That's it. The dressing is my go to for many of the salads that I throw together at home. I'll add a little mustard, or anchovy or champagne vinegar depending on the salad and my mood.

If you have a mandoline or a Benriner, great. If not, a sharp knife will do. The radishes and fennel ideally should be very thinly sliced. On lazy days at my house, the slices get a bit thicker. Definitely not the end of the world!

The measurements in the recipe are rough guidelines. Even with the dressing -- just taste, taste, taste. You'll know if it is citrusy enough for you.

Shaved Fennel, Radish & Parmigiano Reggiano

1 large bulb fennel

6 radishes - french butter, red, or easter egg

A hunk of Parmigiano Reggiano for shaving

2 cloves garlic

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Salt

Freshly ground pepper

Carefully using a mandoline or Benriner, thinly slice the fennel and radishes into a medium-sized bowl. Using a regular peeler (not the y-shaped variety), shave curls (maybe twenty or so) of the Parmigiano Reggiano into the bowl.

Smash the garlic cloves and place them into a small bowl, discarding the skin. Add the lemon juice and salt and pepper to taste. Let sit for about ten minutes. Whisk in the olive oil, and taste for seasoning and acidity. Does it taste good to you?

Toss enough of the dressing with the salad to lightly coat. Taste, and season with additional salt and pepper. Serve. Save any remaining dressing for arugula tomorrow.

Serves 2-4