New England

Three or four ingredients are traditional in a clambake: clams (which should be littlenecks, not steamers, to minimize sandiness and make eating easier); lobster, of which you don’t need much, about half per person; corn, an ear (or two, if it’s good) per person; sausage, which you can certainly do without if you prefer; and melted butter, which is entirely optional (and I find entirely unnecessary). If you have those things, all you need to do to mimic a real outdoor clambake, basically, is dump them in a pot, cover it, and turn on the heat. No kidding.

Real bay scallops—which come from the waters between Cape Cod and Long Island—are in season through the winter and are an amazing treat (they’re also amazingly expensive). Though you can eat them raw, they’re also good cooked, but simply . . . very simply.

This delicious baked-halibut recipe came from The Gloucester House, presided over by Michael Linquata, with whom we had a lovely lunch on the porch of the restaurant. This fish is simple to make, and the recipe can easily be multiplied if you have guests coming.

Mackerel is not a popular fish, but I love it: it is flavorful and very nutritious. As with all fish, but especially with mackerel, the freshness of the fish is the key. This dish is very good eaten hot, but also at room temperature.

This dish channels the best of the clam shacks that dot the East Coast. Here, a crunchy cornmeal coating and a quick dip in hot oil render these soft-shell clams succulent and juicy. As an accompaniment, chopped sorrel gives aioli a lemony lift and gorgeous color for a nice twist on tartar sauce. For fun, serve them to your guests the way we do in the restaurants—in little paper cones. They’re not hard to fold, make for great oil-absorbing containers, and make you feel like you’re on the boardwalk.

Chatham is a small town at the “elbow” of Massachusetts’ Cape Cod. As it is surrounded by water on three sides, fishing has historically been the major industry of the town. The sweet, mild-flavored cod caught off Chatham’s shores is the finest there is. Now, it might seem heretical for a Yankees fan such as I am to give a New England specialty equal billing with a Manhattan clam chowder, but even the Red Sox and the Yankees play on the same team for the All-Star game, right? This all-star dish surrounds creamy roasted potatoes and flaky cod with a tomato-accented broth-based clam chowder. Be sure to use Atlantic razor clams for the garnish. Pacific razor clams are larger and must be cleaned thoroughly and are cooked in a different manner, whereas the smaller Atlantic clam is ready to go!

The Eastern seaboard—especially the Chesapeake Bay—is riddled with shallow muddy inlets of brackish water, the perfect home for blue crabs. Grades of crabmeat depend on which part of the crab the meat is from and the size of the pieces. Jumbo lump is the most expensive and is composed of the largest pieces of white body meat. Lump crab is next and is harvested from the back fin. Flake is the smallest pieces of white body meat. Claw meat is the darker meat from the claw and is the least expensive. Look for fresh or pasteurized crab in your seafood department and avoid the canned, shelf-stable product. Serve this dip with water crackers or toasted slices of baguette.

The name of this dessert or breakfast treat comes from colonial settlers in New England who substituted corn, or “Indian meal,” to make English pudding when wheat flour was in short supply. The pudding is sublime when served with clotted cream, whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream.

Caramelized winter fruits atop these beans make for a wonderful variation of this traditional New England side dish.

Steaming bread in the slow cooker is a terrific, hassle-free way to bake bread of all kinds. Traditionally, the batter for this brown bread was poured into coffee cans and placed in deep kettles filled with water, then hung for hours over the fire to steam. Serve it with New England Baked Beans (opposite page) or toasted for breakfast with cream cheese.

Baked tofu is an excellent stand-in for clams in this classic American soup. I like to use mild-flavored Soy Boy Tofu Lin for this recipe, but you may use whatever brand or flavor you prefer.

Not quite a soup, New England fish chowder is known for its succulent large chunks of seafood and vegetables coated in a thin, milky broth. Traditionally this is made with cod; however, tilapia, flounder, or any other white fish will work fine. You can even use fillets directly from the freezer without defrosting them first. The fish will break into pieces as it cooks, or you can break it up while serving. Add any type of fresh or frozen seafood, such as crab or shrimp, or eight ounces of corn kernels for an even heartier meal. The type of milk used will affect how thick the broth is. Choose skim, 2 percent, whole, soy, rice, almond, or even heavy cream to suit your preference. To quickly remove the stems of chard (and other leafy greens like kale), hold the sides of the leaves together in one hand and use the other to rip the stem from the bottom of the leaf. Chard stems can be bitter. By chopping the stems finely and placing them on the bottom of the pot, they will have the opportunity to brown slightly and lose most of their bitterness.

I decided to make lobster the last recipe in this book so I could give myself the gift of a lobster dinner to celebrate. My father’s family in Montpelier, Vermont, were all passionate lobster-lovers. Being in an inland state, cut off from the sea, only made them more avid for a good lobster dinner, and they frequented The Lobster Pot on Main Street for every kind of celebration. My aunt Marian, after she became a widow, would often stroll down to The Lobster Pot to have dinner by herself, and it was there that she taught me the ritual of eating a lobster—sucking the juices and little morsels of flesh from each leg, and always saving the big claws for the last, because to her they contained the most delicious meat. So, for my treat, I stopped at Citarella’s in Manhattan and asked for a 1 1/4-pounder. The fishmonger held one up to demonstrate for me how lively the little lobster was as it wriggled and pawed the air with its tentacles. I was even asked whether I wanted a male or a female, and of course I said female, so I could enjoy the roe. But when I got it home, there was only the tomalley—the green-gray loose substance that is the liver; there was no roe. I looked in Julia Child’s The Way to Cook and realized that I should have checked first for the little swimmerets under the tail: the male’s are “clean and pointed,” whereas the female’s are “fringed with hair”—a test that is not easy to execute when the creature is wriggling desperately. I have always preferred steaming to boiling, because that way the lobster doesn’t get too immersed in water, and the small amount of steaming water becomes more intense. So I hauled down my largest pot, and arranged a collapsible steamer inside it.

Every summer, I get my share of the syrup from my maple trees in northern Vermont that my cousin John taps in the spring. I particularly like the dark syrup he produces, and I devise ways to use it in old-fashioned desserts like this one. I also use the tart apples from a Duchess tree that embraces the house. So I consider this dessert a gift of nature, and I hope you’ll find your own good sources for its ingredients.

This mock bouillabaisse is so scrumptious that you would never know it had anything “left over” in it. You do have to stop and pick up a dozen or so fresh mussels and a few clams the day you’re making it, but otherwise everything else is at hand, and you can put this together in half an hour. I am assuming, of course, that you have a good fish stock in your freezer; if not, plan to make this after you’ve had a lobster or a supper of steamed mussels and have some of that intense lobster or mussel broth left. Otherwise use clam juice, diluted by Half with water because it is quite strong.

Those little bits of fish that you didn’t finish, or that you purposely put aside for another meal, take on new life in these scrumptious fish cakes. My rule of thumb is to use equal parts cooked fish and potatoes. If the fish you are using has been fried, scrape off the crusty exterior, because you want the cakes to be smooth inside.

From cooking a corned beef hash lunch with Julia Child, I learned a few tips about what makes a really delicious hash, whether it be made with cooked lamb, beef, poultry, or, in this case, pork. I discovered the importance of adding some stock and cooking the hash slowly at first, to form a glaze, and of always cutting the meat in small pieces, never grinding. You use approximately the same amount of meat as potatoes, and it’s essential to include some aromatic vegetables to give off their sweetness and help form the glaze that makes the crust. I am using a cooked beet here, because New Englanders always include it with pork—hence the name “red flannel”—but use other handy vegetables, such as mushrooms, red peppers, carrot, or fennel, that are good foils for whatever meat you have left over. I cook it all in my sturdy 8-inch cast-iron pan, which I think is better than nonstick for a hash.

We all have a friend who can literally eat whatever she wants and continue to stay in shape. One of Crystal’s dear friends, Carolyn, is that type of person: a Yankee from New Jersey—and a skinny one at that. Lucky for her, she introduced Crystal to this pot roast, and their friendship took off . Crystal soon found out that Carolyn actually cooks everything with lighter ingredients. Now we’re on to Carolyn’s secret!

Crystal’s brother-in-law Jim is a native of Maine, and he has a passion so strong for lobster that we have nicknamed him “Lobster Boy.” We have joked that if he were rich, he would eat lobster in some form or fashion every day—lobster rolls, lobster omelets, and even lobster casseroles. This casserole salutes you, Lobster Boy! We recommend serving it over buttered egg noodles that have been tossed with poppy seeds for color and a bit of a crunch.