Month: July 2013

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Homemade S’mores Marshmallows

$10 late last night for an impulse buy: a cookie-butter waffle purchased from a tiny restaurant on South Boulevard, eaten hastily in Mike’s car (using fingers instead of forks) as we talked about our big plans.

$5 this morning to park Mike’s car in a dusty gravel lot before walking a few city blocks hand in hand, dodging construction tape and ducking into the wrong building before finally finding our way.

$60 passed to a woman wearing a rhinestone heart ring and gold eye shadow, who typed a few things into the computer before printing, signing, and handing over our marriage license in a clear cellophane bag.

$30 for a celebratory lunch — orecchiette with sausage for me, pan-fried trout for Mike — at a little Italian restaurant buzzing with businesspeople at business lunch meetings.

$1.89 for a fountain Coke Zero from Chick-fil-a on the way home after baking our way through the city all afternoon.

The costs added up this weekend, but the total doesn’t come close to what I received in return: the memory of spending the-weekend-before-our-wedding with my fiancé, getting our marriage license and realizing together that this is really happening. What a crazy, surreal, tricky, scary, wonderful life.

* * *

Have a little celebration of your own with these indulgent homemade S’mores Marshmallows. The marshmallows are marbled with melted chocolate, rolled in graham cracker crumbs, and topped with a hot fudge drizzle. If you’re thinking that homemade marshmallows sound difficult, by the way, think again. If you can heat something on the stove and turn on your mixer, you got this — just use a candy thermometer and be careful with the hot sugar.

One year ago: Anthony’s Cinnamon & Walnut Zucchini Bread (gluten-free adaptation included)
Two years ago: Fig, Prosciutto, and Arugula Pizza
Three years ago: Chocolate Mousse Pie
Four years ago: Mango Raspberry Rosecakes

Homemade S’mores Marshmallows


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 100+ 1-inch marshmallows!

These S’mores Marshmallows are homemade marshmallows marbled with chocolate and rolled in graham cracker crumbs. For a cute party treat, cut them into 1-inch cubes, drizzle them with hot fudge, and stick a toothpick in each one.

Ingredients:
3 packages unflavored gelatin
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup Hershey’s Baking Melts*, chopped
1 1/2 cups chocolate chips, melted and cooled (I used 1 cup semisweet and 1/2 cup 60% cacao Ghirardelli chips)
graham cracker crumbs, for dusting
hot fudge, for topping
*Karly turned me on to these and they’re perfect for this application, but you can use chocolate chips or even chocolate kisses if you need to.

Directions:
NOTE: Homemade marshmallows are easy if you do a few things. First, spray any measuring cups or tools you’ll be using with cooking spray. Greased measuring cups are great for easily measuring sticky corn syrup, and greased spatulas make working with the marshmallow mixture a lot easier. Second, get all your ingredients and pans measured and prepared before you start. Finally, once the marshmallows are all whipped up and you’re ready to swirl in the melted chocolate and pour the mixture in the pan, work quickly — if you wait too long, they are harder to work with.

Prepare a 9 x 12 inch glass baking dish by sprinkling in a layer of graham cracker crumbs (don’t be skimpy — this will prevent the marshmallows from sticking). Sprinkle the chopped baking melts over this layer and set the dish aside.

Place 1/2 cup cold water into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment (marshmallows are a ton easier with a stand mixer) and sprinkle all the gelatin over top to soften it. Let this sit while you make your syrup.

In a heavy medium saucepan, combine corn syrup, sugar, salt, and 1/2 cup water. Cook this over medium-high heat until the sugar dissolves, swirling periodically, and then turn the heat up to high. Cook it until it reaches 240 degrees on a candy thermometer (softball stage). Turn your mixer onto low and drizzle the hot syrup into your softened gelatin. When it’s all poured in, turn the mixer up to high and whip it until the mixture is thick and cooled, about 15 minutes. Then mix in the vanilla well.

Quickly remove the mixing bowl and using a greased spatula, fold in the melted and cooled chocolate. Don’t mix it in all the way — I think it looks pretty if it stays “marbled.” Then quickly scrape all the marshmallow mixture out into your prepared pan and smooth the top. Sprinkle on another solid layer of graham cracker crumbs (again, no skimping!). Let your marshmallows dry, uncovered, overnight. Run a knife around the edges and turn them out onto a cutting board, slicing them as desired (mine pictured above are probably too big — they are super rich and sweet! I recommend 1-inch squares). Then dip the sides into graham cracker crumbs to coat.

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Easy Taco Grilled Mini Pizzas

Mike and I have been doing a lot of talking about married life. How will we manage money? Do we want kids? Who vacuums?

Some of the answers are obvious (for instance, he will be folding all of the laundry. Don’t tell him I said that. But mark my words.) Others are a little trickier.

One of the tricky parts is dinner. I gotta be honest with you all: I don’t usually cook for myself during the week. I either make a big batch of something on Sunday and eat it all week (Naked Vegan Tacos or Roasted Tomato and Onion Bread Soup, anyone?) or I’ll microwave one of those frozen meals. Many nights, as my close friends know, find me at my local deli ordering a half sandwich and a cup of soup and working through dinner.

Cooking every single day is just too hard for me. I can cook a 20-hour dessert on the weekend without flinching, but don’t make me chop a vegetable.

Mike on the other hand is a very clean eater. He usually has broiled steak, chicken, or fish; some veggies; maybe some scrambled eggs. His meals are filled with healthy but plain food. I always tease him about choosing super simple recipes when I’m baking huge desserts, but really, he’s the one who takes the time to cook good meals on a daily basis.

I guess it seems obvious that he should be our go-to dinner person, but then again, I’m bored with his menu already. There are only so many nights I can eat chicken and vegetables.

We need a way to make one dinner customizable to both of our tastes. I’ve always loved Pillsbury crescent rolls for this purpose — they’re so versatile and can be stuffed with any old thing — but recently Pillsbury asked me to try their pizza crust and I enjoyed it, too! It’s perfect for a fun family night since everyone can choose their own toppings.

To try it out, I thought I’d give grilled pizza a go. I’ve wanted to grill pizza since folks around the interwebz first began doing so, but I live in an apartment and don’t have an outdoor grill. I do have a cast iron grill pan, though, so I jumped at the chance to experiment. It turns out that it’s super easy to grill a pizza indoors (and no mosquitoes, hooray). I used the tips from Pillsbury’s How to Grill Pizza website.

The best part about the process, for me, was the power to customize. I chose to cut my Pillsbury pizza crust into mini-pizzas, allowing people to dress their own individual servings. I created a little toppings bar with bowls of tomatoes, avocado, iceberg lettuce, shredded cheddar, sour cream, and tortilla chips. I then grilled the pizzas topped with just salsa, meat, and cheese, leaving the crisp, cold taco salad ingredients for folks to pile on their hot pizzas.


the toppings bar

With summer here, Pillsbury knows you and your family want to enjoy the outdoors as much as possible. So at your next BBQ, why not grill pizza (or mini-pizzas!) for a family fun night? Go see how to grill a pizza on Pillsbury’s website. And please save a slice for me.

One year ago: Elvis Presley Bars (Peanut Butter Banana Bacon Bars – with a vegetarian variation!)
Two years ago: Pretty Italian Pressed Sandwiches
Three years ago: Chocolate Mousse Pie
Four years ago: Baking to Freeze: Mexican and Classic Lasagna and Cookies

Easy Taco Grilled Pizza


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 6-10 mini pizzas

These mini-pizzas are adorable no matter how you cook them, but grilling pizzas is fast, delicious, and perfect for the summer. Leave the toppings on the side as a topping bar so everyone can create their own perfect pizza.

Ingredients:
1 roll Pillsbury Pizza Crust
1 pound ground beef or turkey
taco seasoning
cheddar cheese
salsa
optional toppings: chopped tomatoes, iceberg lettuce, tortilla chips, sour cream, chopped avocado

Directions:
Review Pillsbury’s easy instructions for How to Grill Pizza before starting out and get all your toppings chopped and ready. Brown the ground beef in a skillet over high heat, drain it well on a paper towel lined plate, and then sauté it with the taco seasoning and a little water until it’s well seasoned. Set this aside with the other prepared ingredients.

Unroll Pillsbury Pizza Crust onto a greased sheet of foil and cut it to desired “mini pizza” sizes.

Preheat a cast iron grill pan (sprayed well with cooking spray) over medium heat (or preheat an oiled outdoor grill to a low heat). Use the foil to flip the mini crusts, one or two at a time, onto the grill. Grill the crust for a minute or two on the first side before flipping it and adding a layer of salsa, seasoned beef, and cheese. Cook another minute or two to melt the cheese, being careful not to burn the bottom crust. If the cheese isn’t fully melted, you can stick the pizza in the microwave for a few seconds post-grilling to finish that job. Take pizzas to the table and let everyone top as they wish. Enjoy!

Disclosure: Compensation was provided by General Mills via Glam Media. The opinions expressed herein, though, are all mine and are not indicative of the opinions or positions of General Mills. You can rest assured that I never share products with you that I’m not personally enthusiastic about.

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cookies, other

Strawberry Lemonade Cheesecake Bars with a Shortbread Crust

I haven’t met my future 8th grade students yet, but I’m pretty certain they are wonderful. Just a hunch. To prepare for our time together this fall, I’m reviewing their summer reading book, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, wherein Mark Twain evokes the joy and angst of rural childhood.

One of the scenes in the book finds the spunky young protagonist tragically imprisoned in a church pew as “the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the state; for the state officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for the President . . . .”

Tom noticed whenever the minister added a new detail to the prayer and “his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly.”

The prayer sounds mighty familiar to me. During my own childhood, it had not issued forth from a droning minister but from my own hyper-organized and hyper-devout conscience. I had a careful mental list of people and things I needed to pray for, and even sublists of what to pray about each of those people and things. My daily prayers grew to the point of absurdity. I would head into prayer time like a prisoner might trudge into her jail cell, schlepping her heavy chains along behind her. Doesn’t sound quite right, does it?

I didn’t know it, but my prayers were suffering from what I call “keeping the plane up” syndrome. I’m terrified of flying, and on an airplane, I’ll sometimes anxiously concentrate on keeping myself in the air. While I know it’s silly, it feels like my extreme focus gives me some control over the situation, and like breaking it might send the plane spiraling. To snap out of this, I have to very deliberately jar my focus — by reading SkyMall or walking to the restroom, usually — and let myself realize that everything is still okay.

My childhood prayers were the same thing. I was “keeping the plane up” — keeping people alive, keeping the house from burning down, keeping floods and severe weather at bay — all by focusing my tiny 8-year-old attention. While I think the minister in Tom Sawyer probably just enjoyed hearing himself pontificate, my own bloated prayers felt urgent to me. If I left a bit out, perhaps God would leave that bit off of His own list. Maybe that person would go unblessed, unhealed. The situation seemed quite weighty and desperate. When I got older, I realized I had to snap out of this much like I snapped out of keeping the plane up: by purposely upsetting the routine and watching for God’s continued faithfulness.

A few years ago I was reading through Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest and for some reason, something I’d heard over and over again, and indeed read over and over again in the Bible itself, finally clicked for me. It was the idea that God already knows what you need before you ask it. For some reason, it hadn’t really sunk in that the reason to pray was not to inform God what you needed, inform Him what you thought about Him, inform him what you were thankful for. He knew these things. So why tell Him? Radically, Chambers noted that like most things we think of as “serving God” (tithing, worshipping), this task was given to us for us — that is, prayer did more for us than it did for God.

What it does for us is connect us to the source of abundant life, allowing us to commune with God. It’s looking to the Father for a “security check,” abiding in Him, and therefore it replenishes and reassures us. It trains us for the life events that will bring us to our knees, when that communion will become a lifeline that we’re clinging to for survival (I believe this is why Christ encouraged the disciples repeatedly to commune in prayer with Him in the garden of Gethsemane — He knew the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, and they needed preparation for what was to come). It also allows us to explicitly do what Christ instructed and love our neighbors by lifting them in prayer.

But the key piece of this puzzle was, for me, He already knows. You can’t mess anything up by forgetting a part of the script. Indeed, I’m reminded that sometimes even when you have no words or are so heartbroken that you can’t remember how to pray, “the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.”

Later in Tom Sawyer, a bored Tom rifles through his pocket and finds a box holding his most recent capture, a busy tick, whereupon “his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it.”

Thankfully, I’ve experienced that sort of prayer, too. I remember it from the car ride to see my mom after she woke up from a surgery she almost didn’t survive. I remember it from the night Mike proposed to me. I remember it from watching Byrd run to fetch her rubber bone after her double knee surgery and months-long recovery. I remember it from sitting in a church pew with my nephew, Caleb, when he asked what the preacher meant by “committed to God” and after hearing my explanation, declared, “I’m committed to God.” I remember it from the day I received the phone call in my classroom telling me that my dad’s cancer was gone.

* * *

For those of you who pray — and I know there are those of you out there who don’t, and I hope you know you are as welcome here as anyone else — tell me about your prayers. Tell me about how your prayer life has changed over time. And have you felt that glowing moment of gratitude yourself?

In the meantime, let’s share some strawberry lemonade cheesecake. These bars are a version of one of my dad’s favorite desserts, Lemon Blueberry Cheesecake Bars, and they are so creamy and delicious. This summery version includes a little extra lemon tang, big fresh strawberries, and a buttery shortbread crust. They’re also super easy to whip up, making them one of my favorite summertime treats. I hope you enjoy them.

One year ago: Lemon Raspberry Squares
Two years ago: Soft Sugar Cookies
Three years ago: Spicy Peach and Cucumber Salsa
Four years ago: Overnight Yeast Rolls

Strawberry Lemonade Cheesecake Bars with a Shortbread Crust


Recipe by: Adapted from King Arthur Flour (crust) and Shared Sugar (cheesecake)
Yields: about 18 bars

These cheesecake bars are the perfect summer treat: sweet, creamy, tangy, buttery, and easy to prepare!

Crust Ingredients:
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup confectioners’ sugar

Cheesecake Layer Ingredients:
32 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
4 eggs
5-6 tablespoons lemon juice, depending on how tart you usually like your lemonade!
lemon zest from one lemon (reserve a little to sprinkle on top)
1 cup sugar
strawberries, quartered*
powdered sugar for topping
*Note: I probably bought 2 pints of strawberries but didn’t quite use them all. I didn’t quarter mine because I thought they’d be pretty whole, but they were a bit hard to eat and I’ll quarter them next time I make this recipe!

Directions:
Preheat your oven to 350°F. Prepare a 9 x 13 in. baking dish with a parchment paper sling. Cut the butter into the flour and confectioners’ sugar and press into the baking dish (I used a food processor to cut the fat into the flour, and then the bottom of a dish to press the mixture into the pan). Bake 20 minutes or until light brown. Let cool on wire rack.

In a bowl with an electric mixer, add the cream cheese, eggs, lemon juice, lemon zest, and sugar. Mix until the ingredients are creamy and the cream cheese is fully incorporated. Pour into the pan with the cooled crust. Then evenly distribute the strawberries.

Bake 30-35 minutes or until filling is set. Remove from the oven and cool completely. Then refrigerate for at least 3 hours. Remove the cheesecake from the pan using the parchment paper. Cut into bars and sprinkle with powdered sugar and/or lemon zest.

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cookies

Cherry Lemon Rosemary Shortbread Cookies

Some days you’re a little cranky. It feels like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed. You’re just a little snippier than you’d like. You try to bite your tongue, grab your morning caffeine, and paste on a smile.

Other days, you feel like you woke up in Oscar the Grouch’s trash can and God help whoever has to interact with you before you get it together. You irrationally snap at the dog because she dawdles outside, you grumble about how a huge tractor trailer took up all the good parking by the gym. You stalk into the gym and realize you’re late to Zumba. That was me yesterday.

I usually love Zumba, but yesterday it was like everything came together in a perfect storm of annoyance. First, since I was late, I had to squeeze into a row in the back. I ended up wedged between an industrial-sized fan on my left and a woman on my right who, let us say, was not exactly a Zumba master (not that I’m even close). I was also right behind a woman who completely blocked my view of the instructor. I vaguely realized I should find another space, but the open spots quickly filled as a few more people floated in late. The dancing began and I decided I would have to just make the best of it.

The woman on my right, bless her heart, was always several steps behind, meaning that when it was time to travel to the right, I had nowhere to go. The fan, bless its heart, was on full-blast, freezing me to the bone no matter how frantically I danced to warm myself up. Without being able to see the instructor (or myself in the mirror), I was confused as to the steps half the time and confused about whether or not I was doing them right the other half. I’d say for 95% of the class I was just vaguely wiggling with no rhythm or reason. I usually like to dance my heart out and pretend I’m on America’s Got Talent in Zumba, but yesterday I looked more like a person who has dozed off at a picnic and woken up covered in fire ants: a lot of shivering and thrashing, with some aimless jiggling of arms thrown in for good measure.

It was nobody’s fault. The woman to my right was doing her best and had as much right to muddle through the moves as I did. The woman in front of me had no idea she was blocking my view, nor could she have moved anywhere if she had. I could’ve moved the fan, but I’d just be pointing it at some other poor, unsuspecting soul and freezing them right down to their sneakers. I wasn’t the only one that seemed to have caught the grumpy bug, either; looking around the room, half of the women seemed asleep and the other half seemed like they were dancing through thick maple syrup. My Zumba instructor — who is my favorite instructor, hands down, and who usually has a cheerful, energetic class — seemed to sense the cranky-pants vibe going on in the room, since she encouraged us repeatedly to, “Smile! Have fun with it!” only to be met with more confused, half-hearted sashaying.

It was just an unpleasant situation, we were in unpleasant moods, it was an unpleasant morning. Whiiiine.

When life gives you lemons, you could totally make lemonade. Or even lemon granita? But I’m also betting these tart, sweet, buttery little shortbread cookies will help you change your grouchy tune.

I based this recipe on my Thyme Orange Cranberry Shortbread Cookies, but switched out a few things. These cookies include cherries, rosemary, and lots of lemon juice. The drizzle of white chocolate at the end sweetens them up so they can sweeten your day.

One year ago: Lemon Raspberry Bars
Two years ago: Straw-Raspberry Basil Fruit Leather
Three years ago: Angelic Cherry Mousse Cloud Cake with Mascarpone Whipped Cream
Four years ago: Ferrero Rocher Cupcakes

Cherry Lemon Rosemary Shortbread Cookies


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 20-25 cookies

These are tender, buttery shortbread cookies replete with cherries, tangy lemon, and rosemary. Enjoy them hot from the oven and freeze some for baking in a pinch.

Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/2 teaspoons dried rosemary leaves, chopped finely
3/8 cup powdered sugar
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest (about the zest from one lemon)
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 cup dried cherries, finely chopped
about 1/2 cup white chocolate chips

Directions:
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and dried rosemary. In a separate large bowl, cream together the butter, lemon zest, and powdered sugar 2-3 minutes or until pale, light, and fluffy. Mix in the lemon juice. Beat in the flour mixture and then stir in the cherries by hand to be sure everything is combined.

Use a sheet of wax paper to roll the dough into a 1 1/2-inch wide log (if you’re having trouble, chill the dough for a bit in the fridge before rolling it). Wrap plastic wrap or foil around the logs and freeze them until firm (you can also double-wrap them and leave them frozen for up to 3 weeks at this point. When you’re ready to bake, just use a serrated knife to cut the cookies and bake as usual. It make take a few minutes longer since they’ll be baking from frozen, but just keep an eye on them.) While they cookies are freezing, preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and place the rack in the center. Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat.

Use a serrated knife to slice each log into 1/4-inch slices and place these about 1 inch apart on the prepared baking sheet. Bake until golden, about 8-10 minutes, rotating once halfway through baking. Let the cookies cool for a couple of minutes on the pan before transferring them to a cooling rack to cool completely. In the meantime, melt white chocolate according to package instructions (usually half-power, in small increments, stirring often) and spoon it into a plastic zip-top bag with a tiny corner cut off. Set cookies on wax or parchment paper and squeeze the melted chocolate from the zip-top bag over them in a zig zag design. Let them dry. Store them in an airtight container separated by leaves of parchment or wax paper for up to a week.

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Refreshing, Tart Lemon Granita with Fresh Berries

I must have walked past it a million times, running my fingers along its bright cover, fanning its glossy pages wistfully. I must have asked my parents a million times to look at just one page. They must have responded a million times: “If you look at it now, you won’t have anything to read on the road trip.” It was a brand new, crisp Simpson’s activity book, heavy with dozens of colorful pages, and it sat on my parents’ nightstand for safe keeping, taunting me. It felt like a treasure chest just out of my reach.

After about a week of incessant begging, my dad was “leaving it up to my mom,” and I was pretty sure my mom was about to cave. Just a few more targeted requests. Just a little more careful rationalizing on my part.

“If you let me read a page, I’ll enjoy it now and on the car trip. If you don’t, I’ll just get to enjoy it once.” A few minutes later: “I won’t read the whole thing, just one page. I’ll still have tons to read on the trip.” A few minutes later: “You know, I bet there are some activities in it you can’t do on the road. I’ll just feel disappointed if I read those when we’re stuck in the car.” A few minutes later: “Please please please please please–“

She caved. “Oh well. Just read a page. If you read more and don’t have anything to read on the car trip, don’t complain to me.”

I did read just one page . . . at first. And I really, really liked that page! And I really, really wanted to read just one more. And so I did. There were still plenty of pages left for the road trip; no biggie.

Except that after a few days I’d devoured most of the book. As we loaded into the car to start our 12-hour trek to see family in Missouri, I knew I was in for some pretty rough natural consequences. Sure enough, I had about 5 pages left, and after eagerly devouring those, the book sat on my lap, consumed completely and looking a little dull in comparison to its original boasting luster. I was too proud and stubborn to admit my mistake to my parents, who were happily flipping through Van Morrison CDs in the front seat. So for the next 11.5 hours or so, I stared at trees (and periodically a cow or two) out the window of my family’s gray minivan.

Thankfully, I had the comfort of having been right about one detail. There was an activity in the book that couldn’t have been done in the car. There was a recipe for a glass of lemonade — just one glass — and before our epic car ride, I had happily raided the kitchen for lemon juice and sugar to test it out. It was delicious, made even moreso because I’d fixed it up all by myself, and I made it at least half a dozen times before I tired of its novelty.

Fast forward 20 years or so. I made this super simple lemon granita on Monday, and the exquisite result — from the tart, sweet lemon explosion to the pride at having made it myself — took me right back to those days standing at the counter with my Simpson’s activity book open to the lemonade recipe, diligently stirring a tall glass. This bright lemon ice is just as easy to make as that childhood recipe, but for a little grownup update, I topped it with a drizzle of limoncello and a handful of fresh raspberries. It’s the perfect summer treat: finished in an ice cream maker in 15 minutes, flat, and ready to delight any barbecue guest.

One year ago: Thyme Orange Cranberry Shortbread Cookies
Two years ago: Straw-Raspberry Basil Fruit Leather
Three years ago: Homemade Buttery Croissants and Pains au Chocolat

Refreshing, Tart Lemon Granita with Fresh Berries


Recipe by: Slightly adapted from Gourmet, via Epicurious
Yield: 2-4 servings

This amazing lemon granita is lip-puckering good! It’s like a sweet/tart lemonade frozen into a refreshing summer ice. If you’re a lemon fan, you’ll love it with a drizzle of limoncello and a handful of fresh, sweet berries.

Ingredients:
2 to 4 large lemons
1 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
a few teaspoons limoncello (optional)
fresh berries (optional)

Directions:
With a vegetable peeler or sharp knife, remove zest in long pieces from 1 lemon. Scrape off the white rind from the zest if you got much — this could make your granita bitter. Finely grate off the zest of another lemon. Squeeze 1/2 cup juice from lemons (this took 4 lemons worth of squeezin’ for me, but you only use the zest from the first 2).

In a small heavy saucepan over medium-high heat, combine water and sugar, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Stir in zest (strips and grated) and transfer this mixture to a bowl to cool. Chill syrup, covered, overnight.

About 20 minutes before you’d like to serve your granita, discard large strips of zest (the grated zest stays in for flavor and texture) and stir the 1/2 cup lemon juice into the syrup. Freeze lemon mixture in an ice-cream maker until it’s “spoonable but not crumbly.” This usually took about 12-15 minutes for me. (If you don’t have an ice cream maker, you can freeze the mixture, stirring every 30 minutes, for 3-4 hours.) Serve immediately, garnished with a teaspoon of limoncello and fresh berries if desired.

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