The Season of Impermanence: Reflections on Winter

And a recipe for my Winter Citrus Salad

My Favorite Winter Citrus Salad

Winter in Toronto has a way of reminding you that nothing lasts forever. Snow falls and disappears, leaving behind bare ground and branches, as though it was never really there. And in this season of impermanence, I am reminded of the stillness of winter, this slowing down of time that mirrors what happens in the kitchen.

The summer tomatoes, in all shades of scarlet, are gone, replaced with carrots in muted orange, turnips blushed with mauve, and alliums wrapped in crinkled papery skins. Winter teaches you to look closely at what remains, reminding you that what’s left is often enough. In my pantry, pulses from South Asian grocery stores await their turn to be transformed into a garlicky dal, while jars of preserves made with summer sweet strawberries and candy-pink rhubarb, are destined for a galette or layered into an almond cake.

These are the kind of foods that endure, waiting patiently to be transformed.

The impermanence of winter reveals itself in small, familiar rhythms: frost forming and vanishing overnight, the fleeting swirl of steam from a pot of my carrot ginger soup. And in these moments, I reach for citrus.

The sharp scent of oranges takes me back to my winters in Rome, when I walked down the hill from my apartment in San Saba to the market in Testaccio. Big, fragrant oranges, a deep saffron, with glossy leaves and unwaxed skins, were strewn across long wooden tables at the market, as though freshly spilled from crates moments before.

The vendor reached for the best ones, plucking them with practiced hands and dropping them into brown paper bags that quickly grew heavy with their weight. To make sure I made the right choice, he’d ask, “Signorina, vuole le arance per fare la spremuta?” Miss, do you want the oranges for juice? And I always answered yes, assuredly, not because I was making juice at home, but because I couldn’t resist those beautiful oranges oozing with their raspberry-red juice.

Winter Citrus Salad with Quick-Pickled Shallots and a Vinaigrette

Amid the stillness of winter, there is a Citrus Salad I make—a steadying force, a comfort against the cold. It is these kinds of dishes that remind me that even in the discomfort of winter, I can find joy in simple, nourishing acts. Beautiful blood oranges, their flesh streaked with crimson, sit alongside thick slices of navel oranges, cucumbers, delicate shaved fennel, and bright, fuchsia-toned watermelon radishes.

For now, citrus feels abundant, but its season is brief, as we wait the arrival of Spring. My salad is a fleeting celebration of what endures through the cold months. Nothing lasts forever, and perhaps that is the beauty of it.

My Winter Citrus Salad

INGREDIENTS:

For the salad

• 2 blood oranges

• 1 navel orange (or you can use Cara Cara)

• 1 fennel bulb (approx. 250-300g)

• ½ an English cucumber (approx. 150g)

• 1 medium watermelon radish, peeled

For the vinaigrette

• 1 blood orange, juiced, (approx ½ cup / 120 ml  of freshly squeezed blood orange juice)

• 2 Tbsp lemon juice, (½ a lemon, juiced)

• 2 Tbsp runny honey

• 1 tsp sea salt

• ¾ cup / 180ml of your favorite olive oil (use a really good finishing oil, which is for salads, and drizzling)

• Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Garnish

• 1 small shallot, sliced thinly into moon shapes

• 2 Tbsp lemon juice (½ a lemon, juiced)

Prepare the salad ingredients

Slice the oranges

Start by slicing off the top and bottom of each orange to create flat surfaces. Stand the orange upright on a cutting board. Using a sharp knife, carefully slice down along the sides to remove the peel and white pith, exposing the flesh. Once peeled, lay the orange on its side and cut it into thick, round slices. Repeat this process for both the blood oranges and the navel orange.

Fennel

Trim off the stalks and fronds, reserving a few fronds for garnish if desired. Remove any tough outer layers and slice the fennel bulb thinly using a sharp knife or mandoline.

Cucumber and radish

Slice the cucumber (I like to keep the skin on) and watermelon radish into thin, even rounds. Use a mandoline for precise, paper-thin slices if possible.

Make the vinaigrette

In a small bowl, whisk together blood orange juice, 2 Tbsp lemon juice, runny honey, and sea salt. Slowly add the olive oil in a thin stream, and continue to whisk until it emulsifies. Season with freshly gound black pepper.

Quick-pickle the shallot

Place the thinly sliced shallot into a small bowl. Add 2 Tbsp lemon juice and let the shallot sit for 10 minutes to soften and mellow its raw flavor.

Assemble the salad

Arrange the orange, fennel, cucumber, and watermelon radish on a serving platter or shallow bowl. Drizzle the vinaigrette evenly over the salad.

Garnish
After the shallot has soaked and softened, drain the lemon juice and discard it (or use for a different dressing). Scatter the pickled shallot slices over the salad.