Thyme

Among the most mistreated and overused terms in cooking is jerked, which, at least when I had it in the central Jamaican highlands—Cockpit Country, as it’s called—is essentially a beautifully seasoned pork (or, originally, boar) shoulder slow-cooked over coals. (You cannot make a “jerked” pork tenderloin; it will simply dry out.) The distinctive flavors are nutmeg, allspice (which is called pimento in the islands), and habanero peppers. If possible, crack a nutmeg into pieces and toast about half of it in a skillet until fragrant, with about a tablespoon of allspice berries, then grind them together. If not, use dried spices as directed here. If you have a gas grill, this will be easy; but if at all possible, set up an aluminum tray of soaked wood chips over the side with the heat and replenish as necessary. If you use charcoal, use real charcoal instead of briquettes if you can. Serve this with Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516) and, if you dare, Habanero-Garlic Salsa (page 611). Other cuts of meat you can use here: bone-in chicken legs (cooking time will be considerably shorter, about 1 hour); spareribs, though not traditional, are also good.

How wonderful is the marriage between thyme and lamb? So wonderful that this dish conjures up visions of Greeks spit-roasting lamb or goat on rocky hills above the sea, basting it with branches of thyme dipped in olive oil. (Which is not a bad recipe itself, especially if you have the rocky hills and sea.) This lamb is lovely with a rice dish or simply with bread. Note, interestingly, that this recipe is virtually the same as the one that follows—except the flavors are distinctly different. Under many circumstances, I would have made one a variation of the other, but it would have seemed, in this case, to give one or the other short shrift. They’re both great. Other cuts of meat you can use here: thick cuts of “London broil” or flank steak.

The thyme really shines in this soup, which is unusual for its use of sautéed apples as a slightly crisp, sweet garnish. In the old days, during times of bounty, a piece of meat would be added with the cabbage; you can do that too, but the cooking process will get much longer. I find this light, first-course soup much more useful without it.

We have all eaten herbed cheese, but most of it is store-bought and contains who-knows-what. This is a traditional herb cheese with almost nothing in it; you can also make it with fresh goat cheese or with Yogurt Cheese (preceding recipe). Serve with crackers, lightly toasted pita, and/or raw vegetable sticks.

This shrimp dish is most extravagant if made with big, crunchy shrimp, but if you are price-conscious, medium-sized or even small shrimp will still be delicious. Keep in mind that the cooking time decreases as the size of the shrimp decreases. The amount of peperoncino you use to obtain the “Fra Diavolo,” or “Brother Devil,” is to your liking. Fra Diavolo sauce, originally made with lobster chunks still in the shell, is a creation of Italian immigrants in New York City at the turn of the twentieth century.

This dish is one of the simple joys that comes from freshly dug new potatoes and the inimitable artichoke. You need nothing more than garlic and a hit of thyme to create a side that totally speaks of the earth and that would make even a simple grilled steak sublime.

Carolina Gold rice, a fat, golden-hued, long-grained variety native to South Carolina, is so flavorful that only simple preparations are required. It is excellent in its most basic form, cooked in water with just a little salt and pepper, but for special occasions I opt for this gently embellished preparation.

Roasted vegetables are so easy and delicious—with nothing more than a drizzle of olive oil, a dash of sea salt, and a hot oven, the vegetables get all crispy and caramelized on the outside and soft in the middle. It’s a great dish for company, since it can be made ahead of time and reheated or served at room temperature. But even when you don’t have guests, cook enough for a crowd and use the leftovers in salads, sandwiches, quesadillas, or omelets. Most all vegetables are good for roasting, including turnips, beets, rutabagas, fennel, asparagus, corn, summer squash, tomatoes, onions, garlic, and all kinds of winter squash and pumpkins. Just make sure to wait to add quick-cooking vegetables until any slow-cooking vegetables are almost done.

I grew up on this everyday pot roast, which each member of my family makes with his or her own special twist. My mom swears simple is best, with nothing more than meat and vegetables to flavor the dish. I, on the other hand, add wine, broth, and herbs to maximize the flavor of the meat, and I roast most of the vegetables separately so they get nice and caramelized on the outside and soft and sweet in the center.

This dish—an adaptation of an Anne Willan recipe I used to make at the Soho Charcuterie—is what my dad most often requested when I came home to visit. Rillettes are a classic French preparation similar to pâté that are made by slow-cooking fatty meat until it falls apart, packing the meat in the rendered fat, and allowing it to congeal. The resulting rough spread pairs elegantly with Rosemary Cheese Crackers (page 8) or Cornbread Toasts (page 18), grainy mustard, and pickles. The most important thing to keep in mind is that rillettes need to cook very slowly at a low, steady temperature, so make sure the cooking liquid doesn’t boil once you put the dish in the oven.

Guinea hens are birds, related to pheasants, and are an excellent and highly flavorful alternative to chicken. Because they’re smaller—usually two or three pounds—even whole birds cook quickly and yield just the right amount of meat for one meal. If you can’t find guinea hen, a small chicken will do the trick nicely.

This crispy fried quail is for anyone whose favorite part of fried chicken is the crust. Because quail are so small, you get a satisfyingly high crust-to-meat ratio—but the meat itself is flavorful enough to stand up to all that crust. I drape my version in a veil of creamy, herb-flecked pan gravy.

I grew up on this velvety stew of shredded chicken and puffy dumplings. Not only is it comforting and delicious, but, because it stretches a little meat a long way using just a few ingredients, it is yet another example of Southern culinary resourcefulness.

My mom always made this hearty breakfast when my husband, Peter, and I came to visit her in Memphis; it is so Southern that eating it always made me feel I was really home. (I don’t think Peter, who is from New York, had ever had either pork tenderloin or gravy for breakfast.) The roasted tomato gravy is what makes it so special; roasting the tomatoes cuts and deepens their bright acidity, adding complex layers of flavor to the savory sauce. You can mix things up by making this dish with sausage patties or leftover slices of Grilled and Roasted Filet of Beef with Crispy Roasted Shallots (page 193) instead of the pork tenderloin. Either way, you’ll want to use the biscuits to sop up the last drops of gravy.

My strongest memories of Thanksgiving are the mingling smells of chopped parsley, melted butter, and chicken broth going into the stuffing, and the sounds of cheering and yelling as we all watched the Army-Navy football game. At Bayona we always serve two different stuffings with our roast turkey. One is my mom’s simple bread stuffing, and the other is loaded with local flavors like shrimp (or crayfish) and andouille. I still like my mom’s the best. I call for both stuffings to be baked in casseroles, but you can also follow your favorite method for baking them inside a bird.

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.

This full-flavored stock is the base of many of our soups and sauces at Bar Americain. Make a double batch and freeze it in 1-quart containers so you always have some on hand. In a pinch, low-sodium canned chicken broth will work in soup recipes. However, because chicken broth is not made with chicken bones and therefore doesn’t contain any gelatin, canned broth is not recommended for any of the chicken stock–based sauces in this book.