The phrase “stick season” didn’t enter my vocabulary until I became a resident of rural New England, a place where stick season is a familiar, dreaded harbinger of winter. First there’s regular old autumn, with its brilliant flares of leafy color and that pristine blue sky, and later on, ski season — you know, when it snows. Between those two, we have stick season, which as you might imagine is named after the bare tan-gray branches that dominate the landscape here — that is, until they’re doppled with snow.

Stick season also means, for me, soup season. A big bowl of something hearty and warm is practically required at lunch, when I emerge from my tiny heated office into the chilly kitchen, desperate for something hot to wrap my hands around. This stew is something I put together with the bounty of root vegetables available now at local farms. The harissa adds a spicy depth, and the chickpeas some protein, but I suspect, like many soup recipes, that it would take happily to additions and subtractions.

Lemons. They’re on the exceptions list. You know, the list you make up of foods you can’t live without, even when you’re trying to do the eat local thing? I remember putting together an exceptions list for One Local Summer a few years back, and lemons featured prominently — along with olive oil, salt, pepper, and walnuts. And rice (short-grain and brown, please).

But lemons are a necessity in this household. We need them for our water (well, need is a relative term, I guess), for rousing our soups from leguminous torpor, for brightening our garlicky greens. Their zest is irresistible in blueberry muffins and pancakes — and don’t even get me started on the lemon-ricotta pancakes some friends of ours made for brunch a few months ago. Good lord.

In the deep of winter here in the Berkshires, I’ve found that lemons go a long way toward perking me up at dinner time. And the perkiest lemons are these preserved lemons. I made them in October for a dish I wanted to prepare for Thanksgiving — you have to make them about a month ahead so that they can, you know, preserve — and I’ve been meting them out ever since. They are fantastic, savory and perfumed, sour and a little bit funky. They provide all the fun of the preserving process with very little of the worry due to all that salt and acid. (I’m not a scientist, so don’t quote me on that one. But it seems right.) And they’ll add an incredible, subtle little bite to whatever you add them to — they’re my secret winter salad dressing staple.

Before you get started, be sure you have a screw-top glass jar you can store the lemons in. It should be fairly small — you really want to pack them in there. If you can get your hands on Meyer lemons, then you are luckier than I. Supposedly they are better for this purpose, though I’ve found that the regular old lemons have worked just fine. Finally, if these fragrant spices aren’t to your taste, omit them. You could swap in a fat sprig of rosemary instead, or leave it all out. The most important bits are the lemons and the salt.

Preserved Lemons

I haven’t provided real measurements here; just use your best judgment — you really can’t mess it up.

• Fennel seeds
• Coriander seeds
• Cinnamon stick
• Peppercorns
• Bay leaf
• Sea salt
• Some large, plump lemons, preferably organic, and well-scrubbed

In a small bowl, mix together the various seeds and spices and salt. Add a bit of the mixture to the bottom of your jar.

Make like you are going to quarter the lemons, but instead of cutting all the way through, cut them to within about a half-inch of each tip, keeping them whole. Pack the slits of each lemon with salt and spices and jam them into the jar, leaving very little space between, and adding more salt mixture as you go. Once the lemons are in the jar, add more lemon juice to cover. Leave a bit of space at the top of the jar, but be sure no lemons are poking out. Cover the jar and set aside for a month, shaking the jar every day. You can also keep them in the refrigerator.

When you’re ready to use the lemons, rinse them well, then remove the pulp and mince the peel. Preserved lemons are phenomenal in salad dressing, couscous, or stews.