Blood Orange

This elegant salmon dish is perfect for a winter dinner party—just slide it into a low oven for 40 minutes and it’s ready to serve.

Rich in protein, essential fatty acids and fiber, chia seeds are harvested from Salvia hispanica, a herbaceous plant native to central Mexico that was as an important food source of the Mayans and Aztecs.

Here's a take on the classic Blood and Sand cocktail, using Flemish-style sour ale or kriek (which means "cherry") lambic instead of cherry liqueur. Lambic is a distinctively Belgian style of beer, made with wild yeast as opposed to the carefully controlled fermentation of conventional ales. It is often flavored with fruit, such as cherries or raspberries. Thanks to Eben Freeman, who serves a version of this drink at Ai Fiori in New York City.

This marmalade can be made with navel oranges, blood oranges, or tangerines.

If you can’t find blood oranges, use regular ones.

If fresh is unavailable, look for packages of prewashed baby spinach. Blood oranges are named for their vivid red-streaked flesh.

Every winter, when the first blood oranges appear at the market, I’m as impressed as I was the first time I saw one, while visiting Rome my junior year abroad. One morning, at the local café where I had my daily cappuccino and pretended to read the paper, I heard a loud racket coming from behind me. When I turned and looked, I got my first glimpse of that blood-red juice spewing from the juicers lined up on the bar. I had to order a glass. When I got the bill, I was shocked by the steep price. But even back then, I knew it was something very special and worth every lira. This salad is my homage to those blood oranges that won my heart so many years ago. Layered with sweet dates, Parmesan, almonds, and a few leaves of peppery arugula, the blood-orange slices burst with sweet, tart juice. Because this salad has so few ingredients and nothing to “hide behind,” now is truly a time to seek out the very best ingredients. Once you’ve gathered your perfect components, the only difficult part is arranging them on the plate. Thoughtfully weave the ingredients together, layering them into “hills and valleys,” rather than piling them up into a “mountain.” Think of this as a tapestry, rather than a tossed salad.

This Grand Fashioned was the first-place winner of Grand Marnier and the New York Film Festival’s Independent Cocktail Festival in 1999, long before we ever opened Employees Only. The idea was to get two ounces of Grand Marnier into a cocktail without being cloyingly sweet. To balance this much Curaçao, we muddle fresh blood oranges with lime juice, sugar, and dashes of Angostura bitters. This cocktail looked so much like the contemporary recipe for an Old Fashioned that the name just took over. For the competition, we garnished the drink with a kumquat that had to be tediously scored and peeled to resemble a “blossom,” then stained inside with grenadine. You can imagine our surprise when, upon winning, we were told we would need to make five hundred of these cocktails at the premiere for All About My Mother by director Pedro Almodóvar. The Grand Fashioned is so rich and luscious that it can be consumed as an after-dinner drink.

To get through the winter months, I rely on bright, in-season citrus like blood oranges. A nice, dry bubbly heightens their vibrant sweetness, as does orange-flavored liqueur. For the flavors to bind properly, you need to combine—but not stir—the ingredients before pouring into flutes. If you can’t find Crémant d’Alsace, my sparkling wine of choice, a dry cava will work as well.

Here, a dozen petite pies are baked in pâte sucrée–lined muffin cups. A small amount of blood-orange juice sweetens the tart cranberries, but not overly so. You can assemble and bake the pies a day ahead, but for the best presentation, wait to top each with meringue until just before serving. If you can’t find blood oranges, use a regular variety.

Move rice pudding out of the bowl and into crisp tartlet shells; top each with juicy, ruby red blood-orange segments. The filling is flavored with vanilla bean and blood-orange juice. The tarts can be served warm, at room temperature, or chilled for an afternoon tea or as a delicious final course after dinner. Arrange the blood-orange sections in a floral pattern, then drizzle the tarts with extra juice.

Because of its seductive red color, this granita is the sexiest slushy on earth. It’s incredibly easy to make and requires the simplest of equipment. To take it over the top, serve with whipped cream or, for that Creamsicle effect, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. If blood oranges are not available, you can also use ruby grapefruit, Valencia oranges, pomelos, or Meyer lemons. Tarter citruses will require additional sugar, so taste a bit of the mixture before you freeze it.

This salad demonstrates how fresh winter can taste. The raw fennel is clean, aromatic, and crisp, the citrus sweet and a touch bitter, and the avocado rich and smooth. You can substitute other citrus with similar success or even use several types. To really take this salad over the top, I love to top it with fresh plucked Dungeness crab meat (another winter wonder); about 8 ounces is perfect for four servings.

In Sicily, citrus fruits (agrumi) are enjoyed as a savory as well as a sweet, usually served between courses or at the end of a meal. A salad—called pirettu—is made from thick-skinned citrons (cedri). The green rind is peeled off, the center pulp is discarded, and the pith is sliced and dressed with salt, pepper, oil, and a pinch of sugar. Since fresh citrons are hard to find in America, here’s another citrus salad popular in Sicily, especially in the winter months, when oranges are at their best. Customarily it is made with blood oranges—sanguine or tarocchi—and that’s the way I like it best, though any small, juicy oranges will be delicious. Serve this in the Sicilian style, laying the rounds of orange and rings of red onion artfully on a platter with the dressing drizzled over, rather than tossing everything together. It is great as an appetizer, a refreshing end-of-the-meal salad, or an accompaniment to boiled or grilled meats.

GINA These sparkling beauties (you know I love sparkles) add a festive color to your party table. Note that it may be easier to find blood-orange juice in a carton or bottle, but if you’re lucky enough to find fresh blood oranges, you’ll need about eight oranges to make 2 cups juice.

Campari and soda is one of my favorite aperitifs. Not only is Campari a brilliant vermilion that looks stunning in the glass, but also the liquor’s bitter edge whets the appetite for the dishes to come. Transformed into a gorgeous, not-too-sweet sorbet, Campari is equally at home finishing a meal. (Although this sorbet would also make a nice refresher between courses if you were feeling fancy.) The addition of sweet, ruby-hued blood orange juice makes this a perfect dessert for midwinter when summer’s fruits are still months away. Before you freeze your sorbet, I recommend you pour a little into a highball glass and add some ice and gin. It makes the wait so much more enjoyable.

This salad is a stellar addition to a midwinter antipasto plate, full of bright flavors that seem to hint at warmer days ahead. In the short, dark days of a Seattle January, that’s especially welcome. Because of the salad’s simplicity, it’s important to use the heaviest, sweetest oranges you can find and use a firm, briny olive. Arbequinas or Gaetas are fine substitutes for the Taggiascas; mushy supermarket Kalamatas are not. Serve the salad shortly after you prepare it. As it sits, the flavor of the shallot continues to develop and the lovely balance of the salad is lost.

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.