Salad Smackdown: Cauliflower and Grain FTW!

It's like I was walking up a steep trail in the woods and suddenly came across a pristine pool underneath a sparkling waterfall. Hot and sweaty from the exertion, what could I do but dive in?

Some recipes are like that, in that they provide an jumping-off place for an unexpected and often refreshing experience. Jim Dixon's cauliflower with Meyer lemon relish, which chef Alice Waters (of Chez Panisse fame) based on an Italian gremolata, was like that for me. I'd made it several times to raves here at our house, as well as when I took it as a side dish to friend's homes.

The lemon relish.

Its lemony tingle is fantastic with Meyer lemons when they're in season, but regular lemons serve almost as well. And preserved lemon, minced into tiny shards, takes it to another level with their zesty, salty tang. It was the preserved lemon version that first had me pondering adding grain to the mix, so the next time I added frikeh, the smoky, parched wheat from Ayers Creek Farm that had been cooked to toothy perfection.

Dave was smoking a ten-pound behemoth of a brisket for Memorial Day, so I thought that the cauliflower with frikeh would add an additional smoky note to the ensemble (which included my mother's potato salad and grilled asparagus). There happened to be chive blossoms going nuts in the garden, so a few of those were plucked and sprinkled about.

While I feel like this particular recipe has come to a nice resting point, I'd love to hear if you discover a sparkling pool hidden in its depths.

Grain and Cauliflower Salad with Lemon Relish

8 oz. uncooked grain (frikeh, farro or barley come to mind)
1 head cauliflower, leaves trimmed but stalk left intact
1/2 to 3/4 preserved lemon, minced
1 shallot, minced (about 3 Tbsp.)
1/4 c. chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 Tbsp. chopped chives
1 Tbsp. rice vinegar
3 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt to taste
Chive blossoms to garnish (optional)

Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Add the grain and reduce heat to simmer. Cook for about 30 minutes until al dente (or to your liking) but definitely don't let it get mushy. Drain in a colander and run cold water through it to stop the cooking and cool it quickly.

Drop a whole head of cauliflower into a pot of salted boiling water. Pull it out after 3 minutes and let it cool. Make the relish by putting the minced lemon into a large salad bowl and combining with the shallot, parsley, chives, vinegar and olive oil. Let this sit for a few minutes while you chop the cauliflower into small florets (use the core, too, just chop it into smaller pieces). Toss the cauliflower and the grain with the relish, adding salt to taste. Garnish with chive blossoms, if using. Serve cold or at room temperature.

See the rest of the Salad Smackdown series—winners all!

Got Parmesan Rinds? Make Broth!

Recently I was reading through some old articles and came upon a mention of making a broth from old Parmesan rinds and thought, "Yeah, right." I'd heard of dropping the rinds into tomato sauces and cheese-friendly soups to add a little oomph of umami, but broth? Really?

Then I remembered my "aha!" moment about making corn stock from leftover cobs, and my slap-upside-the-head realization about broth made from crab shells. I knew I had a nice little zip-lock bag of old rinds I'd been storing in the freezer because I felt guilty about throwing them out. So why not give it a try?

And, as you might expect from the enthusiastic title of this post, I'm now a convert and will henceforth be hoarding Parm rinds, maybe even going so far as to sneak them into my pockets when we go to as-yet-uncoverted friends' homes for dinner.

So how easy is it? Seriously, if you can boil water you can make this broth. All it takes is a cup of rinds and eight cups of water, brought to a boil and then simmered for an hour or so. It's insanely good as a base for risotto (see recipe below), but I've also used it combined with chicken broth for minestrone soup, and I can't wait to try it in a creamy tomato soup or my next pot of beans. And it keeps virtually forever in the freezer, though I can't imagine it'll linger there very long.

Like all converts to a cause, I've become pretty fanatical—you won't be finding any unsimmered corn cobs, crab shells or, now, unused Parmesan rinds around here!

Parmesan Broth Risotto with Peas and Preserved Lemons

For the broth:
1 c. Parmesan rinds
8 c. water

For the risotto:
2 Tbsp. butter
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 onion, chopped finely
1 Tbsp. garlic, minced
2 c. arborio rice
1 c. dry white wine
4 c. Parmesan broth
1/2-1 c. peas
1/4 c. preserved lemon, chopped fine
1/2 c. finely grated Parmesan, plus more for serving at the table

Put cheese rinds and water in a medium-sized pot over high heat. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat to simmer for one to two hours. Measure 4 cups of broth for use in risotto. The remainder will keep for a week or so in the fridge or it will keep for at least six months in the freezer.

Melt the butter and oil in a medium-sized saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the onion and sauté until tender. Add the garlic and sauté briefly, then add the rice. Sauté for two minutes, stirring frequently to prevent sticking. Add wine and stir until it's absorbed, then start adding the broth a ladle-full at a time, stirring frequently. When most of broth is absorbed, add more broth. When you've used about half the broth, add the peas and then continue adding broth and stirring frequently until the rice is al dente but not crunchy. Add preserved lemon and 1/2 cup of grated Parmesan and stir to combine. Serve with extra Parmesan for sprinkling at the table.

Meyer Lemon Relish Makes Cauliflower Sing

I adore Meyer lemons and try to use them as much as possible when they're in season. This year I made preserved lemons, the better to enjoy them long after they've disappeared from store shelves. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food chops them into a relish that he can serve with grilled fish or mix with any number of blanched vegetables and salad greens. Thanks, Jim! 

It wasn't that long ago (okay, maybe it was 20 years) that the only way to get a Meyer lemon was knowing someone in California with a tree in their backyard. The citrus, thought to be a cross of lemon and tangerine, actually arrived from Asia in the early 1900s. Less acidic and puckery than the common Lisbon and Eureka lemons, Meyers also have thin, aromatic skins and a lovely fragrance.

Cauliflower with Meyer Lemon Relish

This relish, a twist on the traditional Italian herb sauce called gremolata, comes from an Alice Waters recipe for slow-roasted salmon in the 1999 Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook. It's good with fish and almost everything else.

Drop a whole head of cauliflower into a pot of salted boiling water; pull it out after 3 minutes and let cool. Make the relish by cutting a Meyer lemon into quarters lengthwise, slicing the central white core from each quarter and removing the seeds. Then chop the lemon finely. [Preserved Meyer lemons, chopped as indicated, would be fabulous, too.]

Combine the chopped lemon with a finely chopped shallot, a quarter cup or so of chopped flat-leaf parsley, about a tablespoon of chopped chives, a tablespoon of Katz sparkling wine vinegar, a pinch of salt and a couple of tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. Let this sit for a few minutes while you chop the cauliflower (use the core, too; just chop it into smaller pieces). Toss the cauliflower with the relish, add more salt and a little black pepper and drizzle with more olive oil. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Meyer Lemon Season? Make Preserved Lemons!

There's something about the color yellow tinged with a hint of orange that I find intoxicating. It's that golden-hour hue that comes just before sunset as the sun is sinking toward the horizon, slanting at just the right angle—some sources say between four and five degrees—to brush everything it touches with a yellow-orange glow. If you've seen the work of Van Gogh, you've certainly seen it. Or the movie Days of Heaven, which was shot by the legendary cinematographers Néstor Almendros and Haskell Wexler during the hours just after dawn and before sunset, suffusing the film with a dreamy, fairy tale-like atmosphere.

Meyer lemons, a hybrid of lemons and tangerines, are the fruit of the golden hour, carrying a warmer hue and a milder flavor than regular lemons. When they're in season—hint: now—I can't get enough of them. So this year I decided that I was going to stretch out the pleasure of these golden jewels by preserving them in salt and lemon juice, perhaps one of the simplest methods ever devised and one that is virtually impossible to get wrong.

And the possibilities for them is endless. I've written about using them in risotto, lemoncello, a crab risotto (again, make this now), a cocktail, pasta, a salad…the list goes on and on. So run, don't walk, to your favorite produce department, get some of these gorgeous orbs and start squeezing them…need I say…now.

Preserved Meyer Lemons

12-14 Meyer lemons
Kosher salt
Wide-mouth quart jar with screw-on lid (either a metal ring and lid or a plastic lid)

Lightly rinse the lemons to remove any surface dust or dirt and dry them with a towel. Cover the bottom of the jar with a 1/8" layer of salt. Take six of the lemons and slice them vertically in quarters to within 1/2" of the base. Holding one upright in your palm over a small bowl, fill it with salt and place it in the jar. Do the same with the other five lemons and pack them tightly into the jar. Use more lemons if required to fill the jar within 3/4" of the top (you can slice the lemons into quarters to fit in the nooks and crannies). Pour the salt from the bowl into the jar. Squeeze the juice from the remaining lemons to fill the jar within 1/2" of the top (you can also use regular lemons if you need to). Screw on the lid and place in the refrigerator. Every day or so, shake the jar to distribute the salt and juice, and after three or four weeks you're good to go.

This recipe will work with regular lemons as well. You can also add herbs like bay leaves, peppercorns, cinnamon and cardamom.

Salad Smackdown: Raw Brussels Sprouts Are Hot!

Brussels sprouts are apparently experiencing a moment of mad popularity. I'm seeing recipes calling for them popping up everywhere, except maybe in desserts, though I wouldn't be surprised to see some celebrity chef trying to convince us all that they're terrific when added to cheesecake. Really!

I was browsing the produce section of my supermarket the other day and saw bags of shredded sprouts (left) sitting atop a pile of the unshaved version and thought, wow, I wish I'd thought of that. One of my favorite salads has shaved brussels sprouts spiked with lots of lemon, shards of olives and minced anchovies. But trimming and shredding all those sprouts takes a lot of time…not that it stops me from making it, but with all that knife-work it definitely increases the opportunities for whining.

I've served this salad alongside grilled meats and fish with rave reviews, and, like slaws, it makes for terrific leftover greens a day or two later when the sprouts are wilted and infused with the lemon dressing.

Shaved Brussels Sprouts Salad with Lemon and Olives

3-4 c. shaved brussels sprouts
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
3-6 anchovies, minced
3-4 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon or chopped preserved lemons
Salt to taste

If you can't find bags of shaved brussels sprouts in your store's produce section, trim and halve whole brussels sprouts, then slice crosswise into very fine chiffonade. Place the shaved sprouts in a large salad bowl and add the olives, anchovies (start with the lesser number and add to taste), olive oil and lemon juice. Toss, adding salt to taste.

Check out these other recipes in the Salad Smackdown series!

The L Word: Double Down

The two-fer is such an American idea, isn't it? Buy one, get one free. Whether it's toilet paper or, in this case, a recipe.

I was stuck for something to make for dinner the other night. I wanted something light and wasn't in the mood for meat, a tough task with two voracious carnivores drooling all over my kitchen counters. And no, I'm not referring to the dogs here…they're too short to drool on anything but my toes.

There were some leftovers (the L word) in the fridge: a bit of really good tomato sauce, a few marinated castelvetrano olives from a dinner party, a bunch of kale, a few Meyer lemons I hadn't got around to using yet. Hm. Then it hit me…kale…lemons…olives!

A quick check of the pantry revealed pasta and (yes!) a tin of anchovies. Victory!

At this point you have to picture me dancing around the kitchen, pumping my fists in the air, hearing the theme from Rocky bouncing off the kitchen cabinets. Now the more psychologically stable among you may be thinking that I need something more meaningful to do with my life when coming up with a plan for a weeknight dinner is considered a quest on a par with King Arthur's grail, Hannibal's elephant parade over the Alps or even Indiana Jones's women…um…I mean mythical antiquities. But there you have it…I come up with an idea for dinner and I'm Rocky Balboa. But back to the subject at hand.

What had suddenly turned me into a down-trodden, working-class boxer from Philly was the raw kale salad I'd perfected last fall, based on a raw Brussels sprout salad I'd had at Olympic Provisions. Would it taste as amazing if I used Meyer lemons and combined it with pasta? It sounded reasonable enough to me, so just over twenty minutes later we sat down to what I have to say was one knockout of a dinner.

Meyer Lemon and Kale Pasta

1 lb. dried pasta
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 2-oz. tin anchovies in olive oil
3 cloves garlic, chopped fine
1 small bunch kale (I love lacinato, though any will do), sliced into chiffonade
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon
Juice of 2 Meyer lemons
Salt and pepper to taste
Parmesan, finely grated

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente.

Heat oil over medium heat. Add anchovies and stir until they dissolve (stand back…they can splatter). Add garlic and heat but do not brown it. Add kale and sauté till wilted. Quickly stir in olives and remove from heat.

When pasta is done, drain off water and place in large serving bowl. Add kale mixture, lemon zest and juice (chopped preserved lemons would also be terrific). Toss, adding salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle it lightly with parmesan. Serve with more parmesan in a bowl for sprinkling.

Lovin' That Lemon

What could be better than a delicious dinner that's ready in less time than it takes to boil water and cook pasta? This superbly fresh Meyer lemon pasta dish is almost too good to be true, and it could be a strong competitor to my go-to quick dinner recipe, pasta carbonara.

It's also infinitely mutable, with obvious additions like canned West Coast albacore or a tossing with a bunch of baby arugula. You could even throw in some well-chopped black olives, my preferred variety being oil-cured. And, of course, it's totally acceptable with regular lemons when the Meyers are out of season.

But really, it's best as its simple, straightforward self, perfect as an entrée with a salad but also appropriate as a side with, say, grilled fish. So good!

Meyer Lemon Pasta

Inspired by the original at Franny's via WordsToEatBy

1 lb. dried pasta
4 Tbsp. olive oil, split
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
1/2 c. bread crumbs
Zest of 1 Meyer lemon
Juice of 2 Meyer lemons
1 c. parmesan, grated, plus more for sprinkling
2 Tbsp. parsley, finely chopped

Bring large pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook till al dente.

While pasta cooks, heat 1 Tbsp. oil in sauté pan over medium heat, add garlic, stir briefly to heat, then add bread crumbs and stir till toasted. Set aside to cool. In serving bowl, combine zest, juice and 3 Tbsp. olive oil (chopped preserved lemons would also be terrific). Whisk to emulsify slightly. Add cheese and stir. When pasta is done, drain and add to lemon mixture in bowl along with parsley and bread crumbs. Toss and serve with additional parmesan for sprinkling at the table.

Crustacean Celebration: Crab Risotto

You see, I was watching this show called "Fringe" on the laptop after listening to Brian Greene talking about the existence of an infinite number of parallel universes, called the multiverse, on Fresh Air. (And yes, I'm an NPR junkie.) As Terry gamely tried to ask intelligent questions of the quantum physicist, you could actually hear her brain start to wheeze as it struggled to absorb the advanced concepts involved. (My favorite question was when she asked Greene if his pals in physics circles think he's off his nut.)

I was glad I had the simple, straightforward, science fiction-y TV series about a parallel universe where different outcomes exist, and the way that even small acts can have enormous consequences down the road. Stuff we all can get our heads around, right? Plus they talk about food a fair amount, like a recipe for the perfect strawberry milkshake.

But what got me on this tangent was the fantastic crab risotto that we had for dinner as we huddled around the screen, watching Walter, Peter, Olivia and Astrid try to figure out what the Watchers were up to this time. And I sincerely hoped that in a few parallel universes they have crabs as wonderful as our Dungeness, and that in at least one parallel dining room a little family bearing a striking resemblance to ours was having this bit of creamy comfort before crab season ends.

A Very Crabby Risotto ( or Lemony Crab Risotto)

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 c. shallots, finely chopped
2 c. arborio rice (I used Fior di Riso, an Italian variety)
1 c. dry white wine
2 c. fish stock, warmed
2 c. chicken stock, warmed
1/4-1/3 c. Meyer lemon juice (regular lemons can be used, as well, and chopped preserved lemons would be great)
1 tsp. lemon zest
1/2 c. green peas (thawed if using frozen)
1 egg yolk
1/2 c. parmesan, plus additional for garnish
1-2 lbs. crab meat (I used the meat from two small crabs)*
2 Tbsp. chives, finely chopped

Heat butter and oil in medium saucepan over medium heat, then add onion and garlic and sauté until golden, 2-3 minutes. Add rice and stir to combine, approx. 1 min. Add white wine and stir until absorbed. Combine warmed fish and chicken stocks, then start adding stock a cup at a time until rice is slightly al dente. Remove from heat and add lemon juice, lemon zest, peas, egg yolk, parmesan and 1 Tbsp. chives all at once and stir rapidly to combine. Add crab meat and fold in gently so it doesn't break up too much. Garnish with remaining chives and serve immediately with additional parmesan for sprinkling.

* If you're bringing servings to the table rather than serving family style, you can reserve an appropriate number of larger chunks of crab for garnish.

Check out this season's Crustacean Celebration series: Pasta with Crab and Radicchio, Deadly? I Think Not, The Big Boys Weigh In and Let Them Eat Cakes. See also: last season's series starting with Hot Artichoke and Crab Dip (and links to other posts in the series).

Summer Salad Smackdown: Talk About Going Green!

It was a revelation, an epiphany, an awakening. I'd had brussels sprouts before, of course, roasted, steamed, stir-fried and hashed. But what was sitting on my lunch plate at Olympic Provisions was different in almost every way, a salad comprised of shaved, raw brussels sprouts.

Yes, raw. With a few roughly chopped castelvetrano olives and a hint of minced anchovies, tossed with a very simple dressing of olive oil, fresh lemon and salt.

Crunchy, bright and irresistible, I went back again and again. I couldn't stop talking about it. I made several stabs at copying it, finally achieving my goal. Then brussels sprouts went out of season and I had to find a substitute.

Then it hit me…raw kale! I'd made a run at a kale salad before, and while it was perfectly acceptable, it hadn't grabbed me the way the brussels sprout salad had. So with a bunch of my favorite kale, lacinato, in hand, I chopped a fine chiffonade of the dark springy leaves, mixed in the rest of the ingredients and took a bite.

Perfection! It's now become the hit of our summer table, since it's a great match with any grilled fish,  chicken or meat, and is comfortable in any setting, whether fancy or casual. Who would have thought raw could be so refined?

Kale Salad with Anchovies, Olives and Lemon

1 bunch lacinato kale (also known as Tuscan, black or cavalo nero)
10 castelvetrano olives, pitted and roughly chopped
3-6 anchovies, minced
3-4 Tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon or chopped preserved lemons
Salt to taste

Chop a fine chiffonade of kale. It's not necessary to remove the stems completely, though I remove the thicker stems at the bottom and chop the remaining greens. Place kale in large salad bowl and add the olives, anchovies (start with the lesser number and add to taste), olive oil and lemon juice. Toss, adding salt to taste. I like to make this a half hour before serving so the kale has a chance to wilt slightly.

More salads in the Smackdown: Panzanella with Heirloom Tomatoes, Basil and Grilled Bread.

Light and Lemony

Bare branches, dark grey skies and buckets of rain may mark this season in the Northwest, but they can't hold a candle to some of the delights to be found in local markets. I've already mentioned the abundance of crabby goodness creeping (sideways) out of the sea and onto local tables, and now it looks like there's an avalanche of yellow, puckery globes piling up in the produce aisle and cascading from friends' greenhouses.

Meyer lemons, those natives of China that are thought to be a cross between true lemons and mandarin oranges, have been perfuming the air since they appeared as blossoms on the little tree at my brother's wine shop, and this year he's harvested a bumper crop off of it. I'm planning on making preserved lemons with a batch I bought at the market, but last night, in need of a side dish to go with roast chicken and with lemons dancing in my head, I decided a lemon risotto might just hit the spot.

This recipe is a conglomeration from several sources, but the one departure is the addition of an egg yolk added at the very last minute, courtesy of sensuous kitchen mistress Nigella Lawson. It adds a glossy, creamy quality that suffuses this lemony dish with another level of richness, and may become a regular addition to other creamy risottos.

Meyer Lemon Risotto

2 Tbsp. butter or margarine
3 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 yellow onion, chopped fine or 2 shallots, minced
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 c. arborio rice
1/2 c. dry white wine
5 c. chicken stock, heated
1/2 c. Meyer lemon juice (regular lemons can be used, as well, or substitute chopped preserved lemons instead of the juice and the zest)
2 tsp. lemon zest (approx. 2 lemons)
1 egg yolk
1/2 c. parmesan, plus additional for garnish
Parsley, finely chopped, for garnish

Heat butter and oil in medium saucepan over medium heat, then add onion and garlic and sauté until golden, 2-3 minutes. Add rice and stir to combine, approx. 30 seconds. Add white wine and stir until absorbed, then start adding chicken stock a cup at a time until slightly al dente. Remove from heat and add lemon juice, lemon zest, egg yolk and parmesan all at once and stir rapidly to combine. Garnish with parsley and serve immediately with additional parmesan for sprinkling.

Note: If making this in the microwave (I know…total heresy, but it works great), heat oil and butter for 1 min. on high, then add onion and garlic and heat 2 min. on high. Stir in rice to coat and heat on high 1 minute. Stir in wine and stock, cook for 10 min. on high, then pull out of microwave, stir, replace in microwave and cook an additional 10 minutes, watching to make sure it doesn't dry out (there should still be liquid at the top). Remove from microwave, quickly stir in lemon juice, lemon zest, egg yolk and parmesan and serve, garnished with chopped parsley. You may need to play with the timing a little, since each microwave is different, but seriously, this is an easy way to make risotto, especially if you've got company. And they'll never know you cheated.

Farm Bulletin: The Meaning of Beans, Pt. 2

In Part 1, Anthony informed us about the difference between Fabaceae, Vicia, Vigna and Phaseolus. Part 2 gives us the skinny on shell, wax and bush beans, plus a long-kept secret recipe for dried favas.

Shell or dry beans. These are beans grown for their seeds, rather than the pod. That is, they are grown to be shelled. Typically, they are shelled when dry, and can be stored for several months.

Fresh shell beans are beans that are harvested when the seed has developed and perhaps nearing maturity, but not dry. Also called "shelly beans" in some regions. Typically, green bean varieties do not make good fresh shell beans, and visa versa. Flageolet, cranberry and cannellini are examples of good fresh shell varieties. They have a tough, tasteless pod and would not be welcome as green beans. All three are acceptable as dry beans, though we prefer them fresh shells. There is also a middle point in the drying referred to as "demi-sec."

Wax beans. Yellow snap or string beans. The yellow color is similar to bee's wax, hence the name.

Bush bean. As the name suggests, it is a bean variety that has a bushy habit. They produce beans in a shorter time than pole beans, and the beans tend to be ready about the same time. The beans that are bush beans include: garden beans (snap, wax and string, fresh shell and dry, green and wax) and bush limas. The tepary beans do not climb, per se, but have a viney habit, sprawling across the ground. This shades the soil around the plant.

The primary virtue of bush beans is that they can be harvested by machine. The machine is called a "Pixall Super Jack." Modern bush snap beans have been bred using a toughness gene that allows them to be stripped off the vine and then spewed into a big trailer where they are piled eight feet deep. A pretty impressive feat in endurance, but not necessarily a culinary virtue. We have found that even the best of the bush beans cannot hold a candle to the best of the pole beans, either in terms of flavor, or tenderness and texture. We wait patiently for the pole beans to mature.

Ful Medamas

Linda Colwell kindly gave us her now-legendary interpretation.

1 lb. favas, soaked in water for three days (refrigerated), changing water twice
3 Tbsp. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 med. onion, chopped
2 tsp. turmeric
2 cardamom pods
1 dried Aci Sivri pepper, broken (or any semi hot dried pepper)
1/2 preserved lemon*
2 c. fresh chopped tomatoes or tomato sauce
1 c. pitted mixed green and black olives, chopped
1 c. chopped cilantro
Water or chicken broth to simmer favas
Salt

Once the favas have soaked, heat the olive oil in a deep pot. Sauté the garlic and onion with a pinch of salt. Add the turmeric, cardamom pods and Aci Sivri peppers to cook for 10 minutes slowly. Add the chopped preserved lemon, chopped tomatoes and the favas. Cook 5-8 minutes to begin simmer, add broth or water. Simmer favas over low heat and gently until favas are tender. They should be cooked in the middle but not falling apart. Finish with a seasoning of salt, stir in the olives, and chopped cilantro.

* For a fast version of preserved lemon: Cut a lemon in half cross wise and slit the sides to the end of the fruit. Sprinkle liberally with kosher salt and place in freezer over night. Prior to using, thaw lemon, rinse off salt and chop.