If you have not had the pleasure of smelling or tasting a Meyer lemon, brace yourself for olfactory overload. With an almost perfume-like sweetness and floral soul, Meyer lemons come from warm, sunny places and will brighten your day immeasurably. It was nothing short of a miracle to find them on the shelves of Superstore this week, as I was led to believe, by Florida grocers, that Meyer lemons are not exported out of their southern homes. But, now they are! And you are the lucky shopper who can infuse your salads, marinades, teas, pies, pastas, cookies and grilled fish with its intoxicating essence. They are thin skinned and softer than your run-of-the-mill lemon, and with much more juice. I grabbed a bag and am already planning to restock my stash, having made some basil pesto enlivened with its juice. All my inner resources are at play conjuring up ways to incorporate Meyer lemons into my life. Lemon squares, certainly, and cheesecake topped with a tart lemon curd. Lemon juice will season my rice pilafs and quinoa creations. Salad dressings with nothing more than the lemon juice, a fruity olive oil, cracked black pepper and some sea salt. Squirted on grilled wild halibut. Zested into my Tuscan braised chicken and artichokes. Lemon meringue pie is a must. Even a Shaker pie, which never really appealed to me before, is on my list, if only for the pleasure of slivers of the whole succulent fruit tucked into a flaky pie shell. Sometimes for fun I just take a Meyer lemon out of the fridge and smell it. That's how much I love them.

Simply put, use a Meyer lemon much as you would use an ordinary lemon. But, try to feature its unique personality in as pure a state as possibile, letting it shine through without too much distraction. So, leave the garlic out of your lemon vinaigrette. Don't overdo the parmesan cheese that you rain over your fusili with lemon cream sauce. When life gives you Meyer lemons, make lemonade! Greek avoglemono sauce would be a fine idea right now. Make a ceviche with sweet scallops or fish filets and Meyer lemon juice. Roast a chicken doused with olive oil and lemon juice and zest, tossing the squeezed carcass of the Meyer lemon into the cavity of the chicken during roasting. Finish off your grilled salmon steaks with a cascade of the sweet juice and nothing more. Serve slivers of Meyer lemon in a tall glass of cold Perrier water. A rare Tuscan steak would turn heads with some of this juice as a fresh flourish. How about some lemon shortbread, the butter serving as a conveyer belt for a Meyer lemon experience? Your shoe would taste good marinated in Meyer lemon juice.

To showcase the insane lemon-ness of Meyer lemons, take the freshest of firm fish filets and douse them with lemon juice. The fish will "cook" in the lemon juice because of its acidity, a perfect plan when you have stellar lemons on hand. Jamie Oliver, a British chef with an appreciation for simplicty and freshness, agrees:

Peruvian Ceviche from Jamie Oliver's Jamie's America

14 ounces sushi grade firm fish, VERY fresh, pinboned, skinned and fileted; 1 red or yellow pepper, seeded and finely chopped; 2 green onions, trimmed and finely chopped; juice of 2 Meyer lemons or 3 regular lemons; 3/4 tsp. sea salt; 1-2 fresh red chiles, seeded and finely chopped; 8 sprigs fresh mint, leaved picked off of stems; 8 sprigs fresh cilantro, leaves picked; large handful of watercress, baby arugula, alfalfa or micro greens; extra virgin olive oil; freshly ground black pepper.

Cut your fish fillets into 1/2-inch cubes. Put these into a bowl with your chopped bell peppers and green onions, then cover and place in the fridge until you need them. in a separate bowl or screw top jar, mix together lemon juice, salt and chiles. Cover and cool in the fridge. Wash and dry your herbs and cress and keep them in the fridge too.

The ceviche takes only a few minutes to "cook", that is to say to let the lemon juice work its wonders and permeate the flesh of the fish. Pour the lemon mixture over the fish mixture and immediately mix it up. Leave to sit for a few minutes while you lay out the plates. Throw most of your herb mixture into the bowl with the fish and toss together. Divide the ceviche between 4 plates (or onto a bigger platter) and include a little of the dressing (throw out what remains). Sprinkle the remaining greens over the top of the fish. Drizzle some extra good extra virgin olive oil from a height, anointing the fish with a golden glisten and grind some fresh black pepper over it all. Enjoy.

A regular lemon has plenty of citrusy charm, but a Meyer lemon is exponentially more magical, with perfume, sunshine and freshness in one handy, yellow package. Take your nose and tongue to places they have never been and use these books as inspiration:

Chocolate. Orange. Ginger. Wow, I am smitten already. Landing on this recipe was a stroke of good fortune.

Gingersnaps are not new to me, but I was still not prepared for the intense blast of punchy flavour and texture that these deliver. I cannot fathom a more congenial combination in a cookie than this one, a bittersweet chocolate base speckled with rich nuggets of dark chocolate, the zing of peppery fresh ginger, bursts of tangy orange flavour and the added bonus of little bits of candied ginger for extra oomph. Then, there is the perfection of the texture, chewy and crisp at the same time, a hint of toothy resistance in the bite yielding to moist tackiness in the centre.

How does this happen? Secret ingredient: Marmalade. Who knew you could toss it into a gingersnap and get this sparkling result? I further bolstered the orange flavour with some pure orange oil. Married with the chocolate, this is a cookie to swoon over. Also, ground ginger can only do so much in the flavour department. The fresh ginger in these cookies takes the ginger concept and really lets it rip, as well as enhancing the moistness and tenderness ratio. Molasses is another essential element in a gingersnap, lending its sensuous, sweet depth and irresistible caramel-like qualities.

All told, you are in for a major jolt of delight, happiness in your hot little hands. Here is the game plan:

Chocolate Orange Gingersnaps

2 cups all-purpose flour; 1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp. unsweetened cocoa powder; 2 tsp. baking soda; 2 tsp. ground ginger; 1 tsp. ground cinnamon; 1 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg; 1/2 tsp. kosher salt; 3/4 cup unsalted butter, in pieces; 3/4 cup granulated sugar; 1/2 cup brown sugar; 1/4 cup molasses; 1/4 cup orange marmalade; 1 heaping tbsp. peeled and freshly grated fresh ginger; 1 large egg; 1 tsp. pure vanilla extract; 2 - 3 drops of pure orange oil; 5 tbsp. finely chopped candied ginger; 2 tbsp. cocoa nibs (optional); 5 tbsp. bittersweet chocolate, chopped small; 1/2 cup extra granulated sugar for rolling the cookie dough in.

Line your cookie sheets with parchment paper. Mix dry ingredients together in a large bowl. In a mixer, beat together the butter and sugars on low speed until well blended. Stop the mixer and scrape the bottom and sides of the bowl and blend again. Add molasses, marmalade and grated ginger and mix to blend. Add egg, vanilla and orange oil and mix. Batter may look curdled, but that's OK. Stop and scrape sides and bottom of bowl as needed. Add the dry ingredients all at once and mix on low speed just until incorporated. Batter will be thick.

Add candied ginger, chopped chocolate and (optional) cocoa nibs. Mix only until evenly distributed. Refrigerate the batter overnight, covered with plastic wrap, for the best results.

When ready to bake, pour the extra cup of sugar into a shallow bowl or plate. Preheat your oven to 350 F. Using two teaspoons, plop balls of dough into the sugar and roll into a neater ball, coated with sugar completely. Place balls of sugared dough at least 3-inches apart on your baking sheets and bake for about 10 - 12 minutes, depending on the size of your cookies. Remove cookies from the oven just when they puff up the most, about 11-12 minutes, and let them cool completely in the pan. Makes about 50 small cookies.

Let me say a few words about cocoa nibs. They are available in gourmet shops and are on the pricey side, so make sure you understand what they are before you spend the big bucks. Cocoa nibs are the edible part of the cocoa plant, a hard, almost nut-like shell that is very bittersweet and brittle, with a crackly texture and deep, unsweetened cocoa taste. They are quite bitter on their own but when encased in a sweet cookie, your mouth will marvel at the intoxicating pure essence of chocolate. If you are unsure or unwilling to use them, simply leave them out. I did. I would love to use them for special occassions but not having them at all times will not stop me from making these cookies (at all times!).

At first I thought, I would would have liked this cookie to be a bit thicker, a more handsome handful, but this thin version certainly has its charm. With an almost lacey design, it is large and festive and beautifully toned. I am giving up on my idea of a perfect orb and loving the quirky form and personality at play here.

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Blood Orange Marmalade

A dazzling array of citrus fruits are in the stores and my thoughts naturally turn towards incorporating them into my life. I favour delivery systems that emphasize the zesty tang as well as the sweetness of tangerines, blood oranges, Seville oranges, mandarins, grapefruits and lemons, so was instantly drawn to a velvety marmalade after reading David Lebovitz's rendition on his blog. One point of departure: he uses Seville oranges and I had blood oranges. No matter. Where his product pulsated with an almost neon papaya hue, mine sang a more ruby-toned song.

Marmalade is marvellous with toast but please don't stop there. You can combine it with Dijon mustard and brush it on chicken breasts before grilling them, spoon it into a vinaigrette for a fruit-centric marinade, smear it on a scone, or dab a splotch on a wee wedge of creamy brie. Marmalade dishes out the sunshine during the winter months when we so need a dose, some bright merrimement in a jar for those cold mornings when tea offers warmth and sweet things make you smile. You can use Seville or blood oranges in the following recipe.

Seville Orange Marmalade - Photo courtesy of www.davidlebovitz.com

Seville Orange Marmalade from www.davidlebovitz.com

6 Seville oranges
1 navel orange
10 cups (2.5 liters) water
pinch of salt
8 cups (1.6 kg) sugar
1 tablespoon Scotch (optional)

1. Wash oranges and wipe them dry. Cut each Seville orange in half, crosswise around the equator. Set a non-reactive mesh strainer over a bowl and squeeze the orange halves to remove the seeds, assisting with your fingers to remove any stubborn ones tucked deep within.

2. Tie the seeds up in cheesecloth or muslin very securely.

3. Cut each rind into 3 pieces and use a sharp chef’s knife to cut the rinds into slices or cubes as thin as possible. Each piece shouldn’t be too large (no more than a centimeter, or 1/3-inch in length.) Cut the navel orange into similar-sized pieces.

4. In a large (10-12 quart/liter) stockpot, add the orange slices, seed pouch, water, and salt, as well as the juice from the Seville oranges from step #1. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, and cook until the peels are translucent, about 20 to 30 minutes.

(At this point, sometimes I’ll remove it from the heat after cooking them and let the mixture stand overnight, to help the seeds release any additional pectin.)

5. Stir the sugar into the mixture and bring the mixture to a full boil again, then reduce heat to a gentle boil. Stir occasionally while cooking to make sure it does not burn on the bottom. Midway during cooking, remove the seed pouch and discard.

6. Continue cooking until it has reached the jelling point, about 220F degrees, if using a candy thermometer. To test the marmalade, turn off the heat and put a small amount on a plate that has been chilled in the freezer and briefly return it to the freezer. Check it in a few minutes; it should be slightly jelled and will wrinkle just a bit when you slide your finger through it. If not, continue to cook until it is.

7. Remove from heat, then stir in the Scotch (if using), and ladle the mixture into clean jars. Sometimes I bury a piece of vanilla bean in each jar. (Which is a great way to recycle previously-used or dried-out vanilla beans.)

Yields 2 litres.

Store in the fridge for a few weeks, freeze or can.

Pucker up with more citrusy sensations: