Southern

This unusual aïoli is good on any kind of grilled meat, especially lamb, and the tasty little chickens known as poussins. You might also serve it with roasted artichoke quarters. For this recipe you can steep your own lavender honey, as described below, or simply buy a good-quality lavender honey from Provence.

This is a vibrant, sweet, and spicy sauce that is yummy on seared scallops, roast chicken breasts, and grilled fish fillets. It’s easy to make and keeps well in the refrigerator for up to a few weeks. Feel free to throw in some minced garlic if you love it the way I do. The cilantro is optional, but the fresh green fragrance and color is an appealing touch.

This silky puree is just one more way to enjoy fresh goat cheese, which is a favorite of mine. It can be served with toasted bread and sun-dried tomatoes for a quick hors d’oeuvre, or paired with a salad of fresh greens for an appealing first course. It’s also irresistible slathered on a turkey or grilled portobello sandwich. This puree is similar to the garlic goat cheese filling for my Eggplant Roulades (p. 303), but the addition of fresh basil, herbes de Provence, and chives gives it a style all its own.

This is one of the all-time most popular dishes we have ever created at Bayona. It was the brainchild of another former sous chef, Scott Freer. He had the original idea (duck and peanuts, who knew?), and we tweaked the various components until one day, after tasting the latest version, everyone just stood there silently, grinning in a Duck PBJ reverie. The cashew peanut butter can be made well in advance, as can the grilled onions. However, for super-crisp freshness, the Apple-Celery Salad is best when thrown together right before serving.

More often than not, lunchtime in New Orleans means lining up for a “po’boy” (our version of a hero sandwich), a bag of Zapp’s, and a cold Barq’s root beer. The best versions of the sandwich are made on light, crackly Leidenheimer loaves (made at the city’s most famous bakery) and piled with fried oysters and shrimp. But don’t overlook a spicy sausage filling, and while you’re at it, try my “special sauce.” If they can make “Dijonaise,” I can make “Creolaise.” Creole mustard is whole-grain mustard with a little horseradish added to it, and is it good! It’s made to go with sausage of any kind, but especially with hot, crusty andouille, right off the grill. Use the closest thing you can find to the light, crispy New Orleans-style French bread, add your favorite pickles, and chow down.

While vacationing in Cape Cod recently, Chip and I took it upon ourselves to sample lobster rolls from one end of the Cape to the other. We loved the classic filling of seafood bound in rich mayo, but I immediately started thinking about how herbs and a hint of lemon would make the salad even better. Down here in New Orleans, we don’t have the luxury of leftover lobster very often, but we are lucky enough to have delicious boiled shrimp pretty much all year round. I also thought the spiffy salad deserved something more than the ubiquitous hot dog bun favored up north. A soft, rich bread like brioche is perfect. This is my spin on a venerable New England tradition.

What’s not to like about a roast beef sandwich? In true Danish tradition, this one is served open-faced, but it’s the added golden brown crispy-fried onions that make this sandwich unusually delicious (and require a knife and fork to eat). It’s been a favorite of mine since I was a kid, and I still love it when my mom makes her smorgasbord luncheon, because this sandwich is always on the menu.

For the spread on this sandwich, we mix the cream cheese with a full-flavored blue, but you could mix in Major Grey’s chutney instead for a tasty alternative. I like to roast a whole bone-in turkey breast and serve it one night for dinner, then use the rest for sandwiches or salad. However, any good-quality precooked sliced turkey breast will work. I would eat this with a bowl of Cream of Celery Soup (p. 141) for an easy, comforting weeknight dinner.

Crayfish and The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival seem to go hand in hand. So when it was time to do my annual cooking demo at the Fest, I created this recipe, which is a play on the beloved French bar sandwich made with ham and cheese. I’ve always loved the crispy richness of batter-dipped sandwiches. This version, stuffed with a piquant crayfish salad, steals the show from diner varieties. The creamy crayfish sauce isn’t necessary, but it’s certainly delicious. If you feel guilty about the richness of this recipe, you can use light mayonnaise.

The fragrant, filling, dripping-with-oil muffuletta is New Orleans’s beloved version of a hero or hoagie. The sandwich originated at Central Grocery in 1906, and people still line up out the door to buy them there. In a traditional muffuletta, a sesame seed-speckled round loaf of crusty Italian bread is stuffed with slices of provolone, salami, mortadella, and a pungent olive salad (which ranks alongside hot sauce and beignet mix as the best souvenirs from the Quarter). A muffuletta is a cousin to one of the great street foods of Nice, the niçoise-salad-on-a-roll known as pan bagnat. The sandwich, which literally translates as “bathed bread,” is so named because the crusty bread is “bathed” in the rich oils from olives and tuna. With this preparation in mind, I created a tuna-driven version of the classic New Orleans sandwich. I think it’s a happy combination.

On its own, Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269) makes for an incredible meal. But these sandwiches, made from the leftover pork, are so delicious that you may end up roasting the shoulder just to make them. We served the sandwiches at Spice Inc. for two years. I originally learned this recipe from my partner Regina Keever, but the recipe has since been taken over by Jane Ruppel, our beloved office manager and resident party monster, who prepares it for virtually every Bayona get-together, by request. The meat can be used in countless ways and is simply irresistible. The pickled cabbage, spicy Creole mustard, and pickles cut the richness of the pork.

This fabulous, herbaceous gumbo used to be primarily a meatless Lenten dish, served on Good Friday. It is a pretty rare find on menus these days, but if you should come across it, give it a try. It is a thinner, soupier gumbo than most, and you’ll be surprised how much flavor the greens impart to the broth. When I made it the first time, I thought of how wonderful oysters would taste with the herbs, so I decided to top it off with a few fried ones. You could still serve it during Lent, but don’t reserve this delicious gumbo for once a year.

Although I was not born in New Orleans—we moved here when I was six—I most definitely consider it my hometown. Even post-hurricanes, I am eternally grateful to my dad for deciding to make this simmering, sumptuous, gumbo-of-a-city our permanent home when he retired from the navy. What a happy circumstance for a food lover like me! Speaking of gumbo, I could eat it every day of the week. And you can’t claim to be a cook in Louisiana without having your own version of its most famous dish. While I have to say that Donald Link, the chef at Herbsaint, makes the best gumbo I have ever eaten, I’ve learned to make a pretty mean version myself. Here is one of the most basic. Feel free to substitute an equal amount of roasted chicken for the duck.

One of the richest, creamiest soups around, bisque is traditionally a puree of seafood, rice, and cream. This luscious version is New Orleans’s eating at its finest. The elegant flavors call for little more than an equally impressive white wine to serve alongside this dish. The aromatic vegetables, tomatoes, tarragon, and liqueur make this recipe particularly distinctive.

I remember a time when gazpacho became very trendy and was on every menu. I decided to come up with a different version—even with a different color. It was José Andrés of Jaleo in Washington, D.C., who made the best Spanish gazpacho I ever tasted, so I borrowed his technique of frying the bread in olive oil. The toasted flavor and richness of the fried bread helps mellow the acidity and round out the flavors of the other ingredients. The shellfish garnish is not necessary but makes the dish a little more elegant and sumptuous.

This silky concoction makes an elegant starter, or a light supper if paired with the Parisienne Bistro Crudité Plate (p. 102) or the Bayona House Salad with Balsamic Vinaigrette (p. 95) and a warm baguette. Oysters and artichokes are another favorite New Orleans combination. For your convenience I’ve called for canned artichoke hearts, but if you’re feeling expansive (and industrious), use fresh artichoke hearts. Your efforts will be rewarded.

The Crescent City Farmer’s Market has had a huge impact on the quality of cooking and eating in New Orleans, and on my own life as well. Over the years it has grown from one location where you could get only bell peppers and tomatoes, one day a week, to four bustling locations (open four days a week) where you can buy anything from Creole cream cheese to colorful varieties of eggplant and Swiss chard, lemongrass, Thai basil, soft-shell crabs, tamales, hibiscus flowers, sweet potato pies, and mayhaw jelly! Happily, post-Katrina, the farmers are back, and this vital part of the community is still up and running. My only complaint is that I can’t just run in and grab what I need in a hurry. When I go, I spend at least an hour perusing produce, catching up with farmers, and socializing with all the other shoppers and chefs I know. The market is a modern-day village green. Of course, this is also what I love about it. If you’re lucky enough to have a real farmer’s market in your area (they’re sprouting up everywhere), be sure to seek it out. It’s bound to have the makings for this soothing and delicious chicken and vegetable soup, among other satisfying meals. Feel free to substitute local seasonal vegetables for any of the ones listed here.

This recipe came about much like the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup commercial—“You got chocolate on my peanut butter,” etc. One day a long time ago, I had some peanut sauce left over from making pork satés, and I was in the process of putting together a cream of celery soup. I started thinking about how people have been known to eat celery sticks with peanut butter, so I swirled the rich sauce into the delicate soup. With a little extra garlic, chile paste, and soy sauce, the result was pretty darn tasty—and I’ve been making it ever since.

I belong to the growing cult who believe that celery is an underappreciated vegetable. Used raw, it has a juicy, nutty crispness that stands on its own with just a couple of other ingredients. When cooked, the flavor becomes deeper and richer, as it does in this soup. Don’t be fooled by the deceptively simple sound of this soup. This celadon puree is elegant and comforting, and can serve as the basis for more complex variations, such as adding leeks, asparagus, broccoli, or poached shredded chicken. Judicious seasoning is important, as salt will really round out the flavors. Croutons made from multigrain bread are the perfect garnish.

The secret to this soup, a luscious puree of caramelized garlic and onions thickened with French bread, is patience. I originally developed it at Savoir Faire. At the time I had a boyfriend who frequently traveled to Mexico. He would rave about sopa de ajo—a broth flavored with garlic and egg—and it sounded so earthy and scrumptious that I decided to try to make it. My approach to recipe development typically involves looking up several versions of a dish, then taking what I like from each of those recipes. That’s exactly how this soup was created. I trained with French chefs, so a puree leapt to mind. Then I read that in Latin countries soups are often thickened with bread. One version relied on fish stock, but I thought chicken stock would be more universally appealing. So I stirred all my ideas together, my mentor Daniel gave it his enthusiastic blessing, and my first true culinary creation was born. When we initially started making this soup, my dishwashers had to peel 10 pounds of garlic at a time. Thankfully, these days at Bayona, we buy peeled garlic by the gallon. In order to develop the proper deep, rich flavor, it’s essential to take your time cooking the garlic. You need to stir the mixture a lot over low heat and wait until the onions and garlic get very dark and caramelized. I love garnishing this soup with tiny croutons that provide a crunchy contrast to the silky body.