Easter

Capirotada is Mexico’s version of bread pudding and is traditionally served during Semana Santa (Lent). It is made with day-old crusty bread that is lightly fried and layered or topped with various ingredients, such as raisins, peanuts, coconut, tomato, or cheese, and baked with sweetened milk or piloncillo syrup. I had the good fortune to stumble upon this incredible bread pudding in Tlaxcala. Cecilia and I met through my dad and immediately sparked a friendship. She told me her mom’s recipe was the best capirotada ever and that it had to be in the book. She was so right! I visited her mother’s home, where I stayed and cooked for a few days. I had never met her before but was warmly welcomed by her with kindness and sweetness. The day after we prepared this unusual bread pudding (originally from Jalisco), the sweet aroma of fragrant guavas and piloncillo lingered in the air as we enjoyed a slice for breakfast with a delicious glass of cold raw milk.

It’s springtime, y’all! So—sauté these peas in butter with onions, and a hit of red-pepper flakes, and your kitchen will fill with the smells of this wonderful season. It’ll put you and your guests in a happy mood and put a spring in everybody’s step.

There are as many springtime things in this salad as possible. In Seattle, we have so much rain that when spring comes, it comes HARD—favas, nettles, peas, spring garlic, and a host of wild little greens that go perfectly together. Regular balsamic vinegar is too heavy; white balsamic still has the sweetness, but it’s lighter and allows the flavors of the vegetables to really shine through. This recipe makes more vinaigrette than you’ll need for the salad. Use the remaining dressing on other combinations of delicate spring vegetables and greens.

Otherwise known as green garlic and garlic shoots, spring garlic captures the essence of garlic without any harshness or bite. Unlike mature garlic, spring garlic should be featured in recipes that won’t overwhelm the delicate flavor, such as this risotto. Make sure you wash the spring garlic thoroughly to remove any sand.

I created this delicate slaw to showcase the vegetables—curlicue pea shoots, tender carrots, spicy arugula, and fresh herbs—that mark the arrival of spring.

This dish contains all the flavor and crunch you expect from fried chicken, but with all the health benefits of using boneless, skinless chicken breast. Plus, you get bonus points for scattering the cutlets over a tender arugula salad bursting with fresh herbs and drizzled with tarragon-infused Buttermilk Green Goddess Dressing.

Fresh green peas and their curlicue shoots are one of the first signs of spring at my local farmer’s markets, and I can never resist combining the two in these refreshing and delicately flavored toasts or Meyer Lemonade. Shake it up with a MEYER LEMONADE (see page 27)

Flan is essentially custard—the creamy melding of milk and eggs in what has proved to be a delectable revelation: you can make a savory flan out of virtually any vegetable. We do several savory flans at my restaurants, including mushroom and carrot, but its delicate flavor and pale green color makes asparagus flan my hands-down favorite. A potato salad made with smoked salmon (which is great on its own for lunch or brunch) is a stylish partner, but you can easily serve this flan with toasted slices of French bread and Grana Padano (or your favorite cheese) and a simple green salad with tomatoes.

Two types of Cheddar are used in this recipe. If you like, use just one type, or mix Cheddar with another melting cheese, such as pepper Jack, Muenster, Swiss, or mozzarella.

Rich and creamy, risotto is Italian-style comfort food. If you like, replace the wine with an equal amount of broth. Arborio rice makes the creamiest risotto, but you can substitute medium-or long-grain white rice.

When I brought this cake to a last-minute dinner, my hosts, Mary and Marshall Cunningham, loved it so much they begged me to take the remainder home. “Don’t leave it here,” they pleaded. “We’ll eat it. We’ll probably eat it for breakfast.” A simple vanilla cake with a layer of tart Key lime curd and a blanket of lightly sweetened whipped cream, Mary dubbed it “the perfect cake for spring or summer.”

Those of us who grew up within spittin’ distance of Louisiana know that unsweetened iced tea is practically un-American. Furthermore, a family get-together in Texas just isn’t right without a big, fat, sweating pitcher of sweet iced tea. So here’s my latest, most favorite iced tea recipe, inspired (ironically) by a vendor at New York City’s biggest farmers’ market—the Union Square Greenmarket. I discovered it on a broiling August afternoon after buying a paper-cupful for one dollar. It was beyond refreshing, with a hint of mint, a kiss of citrus, and just the right touch of New England maple syrup. Naturally, I substitute Texas honey for my version. My mother always made iced tea the old-fashioned way, by boiling water, steeping the tea, and cooling it off with loads of ice. But my coauthor’s mother, Patricia Oresman, gave me a better idea. She used to make sun tea by leaving a pitcher full of water and tea bags in the sun for several hours. One day she put the tea bags in a pitcher full of water but never did get around to setting it out on her sunny backyard porch. She returned to the kitchen a few hours later to find perfectly brewed no-sun sun tea. Now she makes kitchen-counter iced tea year-round, no solar energy needed. How long does she let the tea bags steep? “I let it sit until it gets the color I think it should be,” she says.

Peas are so perfect on their own, it’s a wonder it ever occurred to anyone to cook them in the first place. But fortunately someone did. A trillion peas later, after endless refinements on the art of making a pea more perfect than a pea, the French Laundry created its cold pea soup, a spring rain cloud of viridian sugars skimming a truffled forest. But before Thomas Keller could make his soup, we had to grow up watching Julia Child chiding us about making the blanching water incredibly hot, and salting it, and treating the pea with the utmost love and care. It was Julia Child who rescued cooked peas from the ignominy of creamed cafeteria concoctions, restored their preciousness, and gave them back to us like so many incandescent pearls rolled from the fair hand of nature. A drop of saffron cream shot through with a taut bolt of salt cradles and charges this blanched pea with its own electricity.

Our most successful new offering in 2010 was our cake truffles, spawned entirely from leftovers. We had once served slices of cake to order, but after hemming and hawing with our endearing staff of counter employees over the correct way to slice and serve a multilayered cake, we decided to get smart. Helen and Leslie were the catalyst behind convincing me to make cake truffles with all of our leftover cake and cake layering scraps. Now, instead of committing to a whole slice of cake, you can get a bite or two or three. You can choose to follow the recipe, or get crazy, without our guidance, using leftovers to concoct your own. Don’t limit yourself to carrot cake; you can use any cake scrap and any leftover fillings, crumbs, or crunches. Chocolate Chip Cake (page 94) scraps with Fudge Sauce (page 136) and ground Peanut Brittle (page 169) couldn’t be anything but a success.

In spring, the young leek is a welcome sight with its stick-thin body and compact green flags, particularly after the thick winter ones with their frozen cores. They are worth steaming and dressing with a mustardy vinaigrette or, as here, using as a base for a fava bean and bacon lunch. We sometimes have this in the garden, with inelegant hunks of bread and sweet Welsh butter.

In Greece and Turkey, this bread is called Christopsomo or tsoureki (also known as lambpropsomo during Easter). It differs from stollen in that it’s proofed before baking, but the proofing time is shorter than for panettone. Mastic gum, also called mastica, is an aromatic gum resin derived from the bark of a Mediterranean shrub tree in the pistachio family. It can be found at stores that specialize in Greek and Middle Eastern ingredients. It adds a subtle and......breath-freshening flavor and aroma (no surprise, it has long been used as a natural breath freshener).

Hot cross buns are a traditional Good Friday bread, but they can be made anytime (in Elizabethan England they could only be baked during Easter week or during Christmas, but times have changed). There are, of course, many similar commemorative breads throughout Europe, each with their own twist. Currants and spices such as allspice, mace, nutmeg, and cinnamon are commonly used in the English version. Much folklore and many recipe variations for hot cross buns are available on the Internet (and they’re worth reading), but I prefer the following additions to the basic holiday bread recipe. However, feel free to use your own favorite spice and fruit combinations, or simply bake the buns without any additions, as the buns are wonderful with or without the fruit, spices, and glazed cross.

This is a cross between an egg salad and a potato salad, two classic warm-weather dishes that usually rely on mayonnaise for flavor and binding. In this recipe, the creamy texture of the new potatoes pulls the ingredients together, and the nut-and-olive pesto imparts a rich taste. A traditional basil pesto works just as well. Because their skin is thin and delicate, there is no need to peel new potatoes; simply wash them thoroughly. This healthy salad can be eaten in sandwiches or with lightly dressed lettuce greens.

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.