Stand Mixer

Red velvet cake has inspired as many theories about its provenance as there are recipes in a Junior League cookbook. The question cannot be definitively answered. We do at least know why the cake is red: most red velvet cakes use acidic ingredients—buttermilk and vinegar—and cocoa, which contains a reddish pigment called anthocyanin. The acidic buttermilk reacts with the cocoa and actually makes this red pigment appear even redder. Somewhere along the line, someone decided the cake needed a little more rouge and added red food coloring. Some chefs try to gussy it up using beet juice or deconstruct it into something it’s not. My friend Angie Mosier, who is an incredible baker in her own right, once very aptly described red velvet cake as “the Dolly Parton of cakes—she’s a little bit tacky, but you love her.”

When Mama makes this, it’s all she can do to get it to the baking sheet. While it’s refrigerated, my sister and I sneak nibbles of the sweet, raw dough. One summer years ago, my cousin ate so much of the dough that he got a stomachache. Even now, every time Mama makes these cookies, we laugh about him groaning. Shortly thereafter, she started successfully doubling the recipe to take our nibbling into account. These cookies are somewhat similar to sablés, the real French butter cookie. The vegetable shortening also makes them softer than true French sablés, which are larger in size and have a fine, crumbly texture that resembles sand (their name means sand in French).

Forget fancy gènoise or sponge cake; in the South, a shortcake is really just a sweet biscuit. Granted, this recipe is a step above, flavored with orange zest and sprinkled with raw sugar that sparkles like amber on the golden tops. At Martha Stewart Living Television, we served miniature versions of these buttery brown sugar shortcakes filled with peaches, strawberries, and blueberries at a luncheon attended by President Clinton.

Whole wheat flour may seem to be the choice of health nuts or diet-conscious shoppers looking for whole grains, neither of which suggests typical Southern bread. This is true for more modern breads, but Antebellum and Colonial grains were not as processed as modern flour is and were closer to what we now consider whole wheat flour. This homey bread also uses honey, a natural sweetener, instead of refined white sugar. I do, however, suggest using a modern fat, canola oil, over bacon fat (but now that I think of it, bacon fat sure sounds good!).

The wealthy and powerful Dukes of Burgundy controlled the spice trade in the Middle Ages. The windows of the shops and bakeries of Dijon are filed with tightly wrapped loaves of pain d’épice, the traditional honey spice bread of the region. It’s similar to American-style gingerbread only in that they both contain a variety of spices. The texture of the French bread, however, is denser, as it is traditionally baked at a low temperature for several hours, and the spice combination is slightly different. I’ve adapted this version to cook in less time at a higher temperature. The texture is not as traditional, but the flavor is still incredible. Ground fennel seed is not widely available; to order it, see Sources (page 301), or simply grind your own in a spice grinder. While at La Varenne, we served this bread for breakfast for special guests. It’s also wonderful with a hot cup of tea on a chilly fall afternoon.

Quickbreads use baking powder or baking soda or both as leavening agents and therefore require no kneading or rising, as do traditional yeast breads. This quickbread recipe comes from my cousin-in-law Lisa, whose mama passed it on to her. It was originally baked in a loaf pan, as it is here, but I also like to bake it in a 9-inch cake pan. The temperature stays the same, but the cooking time will reduce to 30 to 45 minutes. It’s great for breakfast, an afternoon snack, or topped with ice cream for a delicious dessert.

Cornmeal gives this bread a subtle crispy crunch. For the best results, use the best-quality extra-virgin olive oil possible. If you really want to “gild the lily,” top the warm bread with a few curls of freshly shaved Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

Meme may have made the rolls, but it was Dede who did a lot of the work. He beat the dough with a special wooden spoon that had a small ledge on the end for gripping. He’d cradle the big bowl in his arm and beat the wet dough so it slapped “wap, wap, wap” against the bowl. All that “muscle” developed the dough’s structure, causing the rolls to rise in the oven light as air, slightly sweet, and richly sour with the scent of yeast. We all thought it was Meme’s gentle touch forming the rolls, but it was actually Dede’s strong arms that made them taste so good. When yeast begins to ferment and grow, it converts its food to alcohol and carbon dioxide. The gluten sheets that form when water is stirred into flour trap the carbon dioxide and allow the dough to rise.

The first time I cooked a soufflé for my teacher, culinary authority and soufflé master Anne Willan, I opened the oven door to discover a lopsided, exploding disaster. Determined to learn, I cooked a soufflé once a week for months with the leftover bits of cheese from the cheeseboard. It was brutal, but I finally mastered the soufflé. That said, cast your fears aside: adapted from one of Anne’s recipes, this soufflé is the absolute perfect recipe for beginners because it demonstrates how easy soufflés are to make and to manipulate. Even if everything does go wrong, no one will know, as the soufflés are hidden under a glorious blanket of rich creamy sauce and melted cheese.

When I was growing up, our nibbles were most often the cheese straws made by my grandfather, whom I called Dede. Dede was a tall, strapping man who knew the secret of a long, happy marriage to his iron-willed wife. As he put it, his blue eyes twinkling, he always got in the last word: “Yes, beloved.” Dede would layer his cheese straws in a tin lined with sheets of butter-stained waxed paper smelling of sharp cheese and peppery cayenne. Everyone loves these cheese straws—I once caught a party guest stuffing his pockets with them. A cookie press is needed to make these savory crackers. I prefer the version that resembles a caulking gun, although a turn-crank one will do. Some hard-core cheese straw makers invest in the electric version!

This is a great accompaniment to almost every recipe in this book because it offers a sweet counterpart to most of the spicy and tangy flavors found in other recipes. And because the ingredients needed are found in most pantries, the batter can be whipped up at a moment’s time and left to bake unattended.

I love pumpkin in just about any form, but put it in a cake with cream cheese frosting, and there’s no holding me back. This cake is perfect to bring to a hang-out night with your friends or for you and your roomies to munch on for dessert. Or breakfast! Hey, pumpkin is a fruit and cake has grain and dairy products . . . sounds like breakfast to me.

This traditional Mexican dessert is the most unusual cake I have ever made, but it’s excellent. The cake rises when it bakes, falls when it cools, and rises again when it absorbs all of the milk topping. Serve it in small bowls because once it is cut, the liquid comes out to form a sauce.

These are my favorite kind of brownies. I like chocolate, but I’m not into the serious fudgy-chocolate kind of stuff. With these brownies I can pick out the ones with more cream cheese and leave the more chocolaty ones for someone else (like my mom).

This was my great-grandmother’s recipe and has been the traditional Carle family birthday cake for four generations. That means that for four generations we have argued about how many raisins should be in the cake. My grandfather liked it like a fruitcake, loaded with raisins and other dried fruit, and my oldest sister, Mindy, likes it with none. But, since we are writing the book, it’s 1 cup.

Megan and I absolutely love Snickerdoodles, but neither of us likes to roll them into balls. So, one of us will mix the dough, and then we begin “let’s make a deal” with our parents. Offering to do chores seems to be our most effective bargaining chip to trade for rolling: we have washed dishes, cooked dinner, cleaned the litter box, and when it’s a double batch, even cleaned our rooms.

Toffee Bars were the first things I learned to bake. These are my standard fare for those, “Oh man, I forgot I was supposed to bring cookies” times. They’re super easy and quick to make. Ten minutes to prep, twenty minutes to cook, done.

I like to make these cookies small, using a scoop so they are all the same size, whereas Jill uses a spoon and makes them huge and all different sizes. Either way, they are one of our favorite cookies. They are great the way they are, but sometimes I like to add butterscotch chips for something different.

This cheesecake is a cross between a New York style and the creamier, no-bake versions. It is really good and really impressive looking (and really big). We usually save this for family parties since it serves twelve people, but if you are making it for your family, it can be refrigerated for four or five days or sliced, individually covered in plastic wrap, and frozen.

I love all banana cream pies, but this one is absolutely the best ever. Although this recipe is a little time-consuming, it is really not difficult to prepare. You spend most of your time just waiting for things to boil or cool, and the result is an awesome desert that will impress your family and friends.