Dutch Oven

A fish fry would not be complete without hushpuppies, yet another dish Southerners prepare with corn. Meme always added grated onion to the meal leftover from frying the fish, and then added an egg and enough buttermilk until the consistency looked about right. My late father-in-law used to host fish fries, cooking up what they’d caught over the weekend at Lake Lanier. Now, I never actually had one of his hushpuppies, but I’ve spent fifteen years trying to replicate one, based on what his family describes. He used beer instead of buttermilk and, it seems, lots of onion. It doesn’t matter how much onion I add, there’s never enough onion. I have a sneaking suspicion that a special food memory created on a sunny summer afternoon has bypassed reality and it’s actually not about the onion. No worries, I’ll keep trying. There are impossible quests that produce far worse results.

For an over-the-top po’ boy, try these crabs in a French loaf dressed with shredded lettuce and sliced tomato, or serve them on a bed of heart-healthy Classic Cole Slaw (page 35) for a new Southern twist on an old favorite.

To quote the regional cookbook Louisiana Entertains, “Good gumbos are like good sunsets: no two are exactly alike, and their delight lies in their variety.” All gumbos use a roux. However, in addition to a roux, some gumbos flavor and thicken with okra and others call for filé powder. Integral to Creole and Cajun cooking, filé powder is made from the dried leaves of the sassafras tree. It is used not only to thicken gumbo but also to impart its mild, lemon flavor. Filé powder should be stirred into gumbo toward the end of cooking or it will become tough and stringy.

A Cajun specialty, étouffée is a succulent, tangy, tomato sauce usually made with crawfish or shrimp. The word étouffée comes from the French étouffer (to smother), and that’s it exactly: rich and tender crawfish tails smothered in a spicy blanket of flavorful sauce. “First, you make a roux” is the start of many Creole and Cajun recipes (it’s also the title of a popular cookbook from Louisiana published by the Lafayette Museum in the early 1960s). Roux is a cooked mixture of fat (butter) and starch (flour) used to thicken many sauces in classic French cooking. A Creole roux is not the classic French butter-flour mixture, but sometimes combines flour with an oil like peanut oil that can hold a high temperature. Unlike a French roux, which can be white to pale golden, Creole and Cajun roux are typically, at the very least, the color of peanut butter and progress to deep, dark brown. This process can take 45 minutes or so of constant stirring. It is dangerous stuff. If any splatters on you, it will be perfectly clear why this fiery, sticky combination of oil and flour is often referred to as “Cajun napalm”!

The fish fry is right up on the list of orchestrated Southern feasts, along with the “pig pull” and “dinner on the grounds.” It’s a great party and wildly different from throwing a few burgers on the grill. And fried fish are just flat-out good. My grandparents met at a fish fry in 1930 and were inseparable through almost 65 years of marriage. They were a great team but there was no doubt who was the boss. For as long as I can remember, they had a motor home. They drove as far south as the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico and to Fairbanks at the far end of the Alaska Highway, where they caught a small plane to the North Pole. I was able to take several long trips with them when I was young. Once the three of us drove north, through Detroit into Canada, east to Nova Scotia, where we caught the ferry to Newfoundland. We were on the one main road in Newfoundland to St. John’s and were about halfway across the island when Meme looked at my grandfather and said, “Sam, pull over in that gas station. I’m ready to go home.” He did, and we did.

This classic French country dish consists of chicken cooked slowly in red wine with onions, mushrooms, bacon, and herbs. When we were young, Mama used to make a similar dish in her slow cooker. Opening the front door on a cold night and welcomed by the inviting smells of stew from a slow cooker can be a dream come true. But winter is not the only time a slow cooker is useful. As it puts out no heat, it makes a cool substitute for a hot oven in the summer, and it uses less electricity. For this dish, a slow cooker is fine, as is a Dutch oven set on the cooktop. If using a slow cooker, don’t skip the step of browning the chicken, or you will have a flabby, tasteless mess. This is a l-o-o-ng recipe, requiring many steps to create its layers of flavor, which may seem daunting to some cooks, but it’s not a difficult one. Consider making this dish ahead and refrigerating it overnight so the flavors will marry and blend: simply reheat it the next day. Note: A wooden spoon is perfect for telling you when your sauce is finished. The sauce will coat the back of the spoon when it has reached the proper coating consistency (napper in classic French cooking).

In classic French cooking, each dish has a name that indicates its precise ingredients and correct garnish. Bourguignonne is a term for dishes cooked in red wine, as some of the most famous French wines are from Bourgogne (Burgundy). These dishes are garnished with pearl onions, button mushrooms, and lardons of bacon. Never choose stew meat already in precut cubes. It’s more expensive and you have no idea if you’re getting, for example, leftover bits from the shoulder or rib-eye, two wildly different cuts that won’t cook at the same rate.

Julia Child was quoted as saying, “Once you have mastered a technique, you hardly need look at a recipe again.” The technique for cooking tough cuts of meat is braising: the meat is seared until dark brown for flavor, then removed from the pot. Aromatics such as herbs and vegetables are cooked in the same pot in a small amount of the remaining fat. The pan is subsequently deglazed with liquid to help remove any brown bits of flavor from the bottom of the pan, then the meat is returned and liquid is added to come up to the meat’s “shoulders.” Pot roast is a classic braised dish.

Brisket is tough, and it is best suited for braising and slow cooking, which tenderizes the meat from within by dissolving the cut’s plentiful collagen and fat. Brisket is very often smoked in the South; in fact, barbecue means brisket in Texas, as barbecue means pork in the Southeast. Buy fresh brisket (not corned or brined), ideally the flat or first cut, which is leaner than point or second cut, and has a layer of fat running across it to help keep it moist. Hungarian paprika, ground from dried sweet peppers, gives the sauce another layer of flavor and a slightly reddish color. There are six types of Hungarian paprika, ranging from delicate to hot; any of them would be fine in this dish. My mother and Aunt Lee took a whirlwind trip to Eastern Europe several years ago. True to their natures, they did have enough time, however, to shop. Knowing how much I like to purchase local ingredients when I travel, Mama brought me paprika as a gift. It’s basically a lifetime supply. I store it in the freezer in an airtight container to help it last as long as possible and not become stale and flavorless.

Short ribs are the meaty ends of the beef rib from the chuck, rib, and brisket. They are rich and succulent, but fairly fatty, so before braising, it is very important to first brown them well to render the excess fat. Short ribs are available cut two ways: English—cut between the bones so each piece consists of one rib, or flanken—cut across the bones, so each piece consists of several bones. Either cut is appropriate for this dish.

This is an incredibly satisfying stew that gets better as it ages, so think about making extra to keep as leftovers. The smoky chipotles add a depth of flavor along with a spicy heat. To tame the heat, you can reduce the number of chipotles or serve the stew with Mexican crema.

A favorite Indian snack, batata vada are thinly coated by a batter made with garbanzo bean flour, which fries up crisp and then settles into a delicate chewiness. Inside, the cheery yellow potato filling (colored by turmeric) speckled by mustard seed bursts with flavor from chile, ginger, lime juice, and fresh herbs. Each one is a small eating adventure in trying to parse the individual elements while enjoying the synergistic whole. You can make the experience more fun with plops of chutney. Called bondas in Southern India and batata vada in Northern India, these dumplings are beloved all over the country. In Bombay, they are shaped as patties and served in a bun as a hamburger-like sandwich called vada pao. Garbanzo bean flour (called bésan in Hindi) is available at Indian grocery stores and health food markets. It has numerous uses in Indian cuisine, as a thickener as well as in batters for fried snacks.

When I first tasted this Shanghai specialty in Vancouver a few years ago, I wondered how it could have escaped me so long. The stupendous filling is remarkably simple, with a mild bite from the raw daikon radish, smokiness from the ham, and richness from the sesame oil. The pastries can be shaped as rounds with an arty spiral pattern of layers or as oblongs with a handsome linear pattern of layers. They are a classic Chinese banquet morsel, but there’s no need to wait for a special occasion. Enjoy them as a snack, accompanied by other dumplings or a clear soup.

Certain childhood treats stick with you, and for me these crisp turnovers are a tasty reminder of our life in Saigon. Sister Thien, our cook, and a family friend whom we called Uncle Thu, would make the dough and fill it with this delectable mixture of shrimp, pork, and jicama. Although they were hot right out of the oil, I could barely wait to dive in. My piggishness often led to a burned tongue. These are not easy to find abroad in expatriate Vietnamese enclaves, and I wasn’t able to rediscover the flavor and texture from my youth until I made them myself. For a baked version, substitute this filling for the one in the empanada recipe (page 111). Note that in the central region of Vietnam, bánh quai vac is the name of unrelated rice-or tapioca-based dumplings.

Bite into a freshly fried samosa, and you’ll realize that the quintessential Indian snack is no simple food. When made well, the crisp shell is delicately rich and flaky. The filling inside varies, but a tangy potato mixture is the most common. Many believe that samosas arrived in India via the ancient trade routes that linked West Asia with Central Asia and South Asia. In fact, related pastries are called sanbusak in the Middle East and samsa in Central Asia. Samosas are fabulous alone or with a dab of mint and/or tamarind chutney. Add some chai tea, and you have a perfect snack. Or serve them with a salad for a great lunch. Many cooks use russet (baking) potatoes, but I prefer Yukon Golds for their flavor and cheery yellow color. Choose potatoes of the same size to ensure that they’re done at the same time.

This is one of the most beautiful marmalades I know of. As the delicate shreds of quince cook, they turn brilliant red and intensify in color as the fruit reduces to a fragrant, shimmering jelly. This preserve is terrific at breakfast or as a filling for Easy Marmalade Tart (page 93). It’s also great paired with slices of Manchego or Cheddar cheese, served with a glass of sherry. This marmalade was inspired by a recipe from Helen Witty’s book Fancy Pantry.

I make this marmalade in the dead of winter whenever my collection of confitures is running low, since, happily, good pineapple is always available. One pineapple yields a lot of jam—another thing to be happy about. The best way to judge if a pineapple is truly ripe is to take a whiff. If the fruit is ripe, it will smell strong and sweet and the flesh will be sweet, too. Using the old wives’ tale method of plucking a leaf from the top just means you’re going to get strange looks from the people in the produce department. And if you do it in France, where I live, you might even be reprimanded.

Figs have two seasons—the first figs appear in late summer and the second batch shows up around mid-autumn. If you miss the first one, not to worry—the second is usually more prolific and the figs are even tastier. Don’t be put off by fresh figs with skins that are split and syrupy; those are the ones that taste the best. For jam making, I like black Mission figs, which are the most common variety, but this recipe will work with others as well. Figs are high in natural sugar, which means that the jam cooks relatively quickly.

In my humble opinion, red plums make the best preserves, and certainly one of the easiest. Their skins give the jam a pleasant tartness and contain so much pectin that even inexperienced jam makers will be blushing like rosy plums with the pride of success. Tossing the fruit with sugar and letting it stand for a few hours intensifies the color of the strawberries so that the jam cooks up with a vivid crimson color.

Writing an ice cream book means two things: (1) you’ll need to buy a separate freezer, and (2) you’re going to have buckets of egg whites left over. Because this recipe uses quite of bit of egg whites, it was a staple in my repertoire for a while. I was certain all my friends (and neighbors, and delivery men, and local merchants, and the people who work in my doctor’s office) would tire of eating these coconut macaroons, but never once did I hear a complaint. Dipping the bottoms in dark chocolate isn’t required, but it really lifts the macaroons to a whole different level. I very highly recommend it.