Bitter/Sweet Symphony Grapefruit offers tart, tasty dishes for winter

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With vibrant yellow skin, a pink center and pucker-up tartness, grapefruit paints a sassy picture of summer. But to me, it’s a winter delight, a softball-sized fruit that showed up in our stockings at Christmas and that our fingers dripped with by the end of the day.

Frankly, this far into the heart of subzero temperatures, I crave the flavor of a gentler season.

That is why grapefruit shows up frequently on our dinner table. Think of it as a breakfast food if you must, but we prefer its sweet spell well after our stomachs have adjusted to the day. A complement to salads, grapefruit cuts through the oil of a vinaigrette and teases the saltiness from shavings of Asiago cheese. Add roasted pumpkin seeds and the combination sings from the plate.

Perfect for a cold dish, grapefruit tends to lose its punch when baked, which was born out in a recent experiment with grapefruit bread pudding. The dish had the perfect aroma and texture, but I would have preferred a richer fruit such as apricots or peaches. Grapefruit is as light and airy as its French name – pamplemousse – suggests.

The best way to capitalize on the aroma and flavor of grapefruit is to serve it slightly chilled, at room temperature or somewhat warmed (but not baked) dishes. A few years ago, a friend with impeccable culinary intuition shared a Williams-Sonoma recipe for citrus compote with oranges, grapefruit, kiwi fruit, wine, honey and golden raisins. It arrived at the table after a rich, meaty meal, whose earthiness was transcended with each bite of the juicy dessert.

Since then, I have altered the recipe a number of times, adding fewer oranges and more grapefruits, eliminating the kiwi fruits completely, and finally eliminating all but the grapefruit. I like serving it after any kind of meal because diners appreciate ending on a high note, one not belabored by sugary, eggy, buttery confections.

One of the oddest combinations I’ve come across is grapefruit-and-kalamata-olive salsa spooned over roasted hake. It sounds better than it tastes, but I appreciated the daring behind its concept. You can make a lot of mistakes with grapefruit, and it’s best to trust your gut feeling. The grapefruit bread pudding proved that, for my palate, grapefruit is at its best when the sparkle has not been fired out of it.

Despite my interest in finding complicated ways to fuse the sunshine of grapefruit into the icy mealtimes of March, the simplest of recipes, such as candied grapefruit rind, can be filled with surprises. By simple, I mean few ingredients: sugar, rinds, water. But it also takes time, first to save that many rinds (I freeze them until I have enough) and then to boil them three or four times before whirling in hot sugar syrup, dipping each sliver in sugar and then laying them out on racks for at least a day. Some people like to tip the ends in chocolate, which is an elegant touch. But I like them unembellished. In fact, I am so enamored of the flavor, that I eliminate one of the boiling steps to preserve more of the bitterness in the rind.

For many, this process is too time-intensive, but for someone with a scattered attention span, it’s the perfect focus. You do a little; then you do something else. Do a little – something else. All the while, the kitchen fills with the piquant aroma of pure grapefruit essence that seems to clean the air and clear the head.

I’ve tried several recipes for candied grapefruit rind. The best is from Maida Heatter’s “Book of Great Desserts.” But there are lots of others that essentially follow the same technique.

Believe me: Candied grapefruit rinds are worth the time and effort. I recently wrapped them in cellophane bags tied with ribbons and sent them to my father and sisters as surprise winter gifts. They were charmed by the bittersweet delicacy of the fruit and appreciated the delicious reconfiguration of an item most leave for garbage.

Misunderstood by popular culture, grapefruit has been limited to breakfast food with half a maraschino cherry on top and a ferocious spoon to saw its flesh. Or it has been relegated to diet food, a vitamin C supplier and diuretic. It is all of those, of course, but it is so much more. The grapefruit, which has been in this country for fewer than 200 years, is the quintessence of summer in the middle of winter. Less puckering than a lemon, more sour than an orange, the grapefruit is a complex and magical reminder that life is both sweet and bitter.

Grapefruit Compote with Honey and Golden Raisins

Serves 6

2 cups of wine (a sweet dessert wine is best but I have also used whatever white I have open in the fridge)

1 cup of fresh orange juice

2 tablespoons honey

1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

1/2 cup golden raisins

4 grapefruits

2 oranges

Combine the wine, juice and honey into a saucepan. Scrape vanilla bean seeds into the pan and add the pod as well. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium heat until liquid measures 1 cup (about 30 minutes). Remove from heat and stir in raisins. Transfer to bowl and let cool.

Using a sharp knife, cut a thick slice off the top and bottom of each grapefruit. Then, standing each grapefruit upright on a cutting surface, cut off the peel and membrane in thick strips. Hold over bowl and cut along either side of each segment until it falls into bowl. Repeat with oranges.

Add the cooled liquid and raisins, removing the vanilla pod. Stir and serve in round champagne glasses or clear dessert bowls. For a variation, spoon over vanilla ice cream.

Chopped Salad with Grapefruit

Serves 6

2 heads crisp romaine lettuce, chopped into slivers

1 medium red onion, sliced into paper thin strips

2 grapefruits, sectioned (reserve juice for dressing)

3 ounces Asiago cheese shavings

For dressing:

1/4 cup safflower oil

2 tablespoons grapefruit juice

11/2 tablespoons champagne vinegar

11/2 teaspoons maple syrup

Sea salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Combine lettuce and onions in large bowl and toss with dressing. Serve salad onto individual plates. Top with grapefruit, then cheese. Serve with wedges of toasted French bread. For variation, add a dollop of fresh crabmeat at the end.