Toast

These crunchy, savory toasts are the upside of cornbread’s short shelf life. Scrumptious and versatile, they can be used in dozens of dishes and snacks—but I’m especially partial to the way they complement zingy Pimiento Cheese.

Whether spread on saltines, white bread, or “celery boats,” tangy, creamy Pimiento Cheese is seriously habit-forming. A simple mix of mayonnaise or cream cheese, shredded Cheddar, and jarred red peppers, Pimiento Cheese is one of those unassuming Southern classics that can sometimes be a hard sell for people who didn’t grow up on it. But when it’s made right, it’s easy to see why Southerners are so passionate about it. Try it—it may just become your new obsession. Shake it up with a WENDY’S BLOODY MARY (see page 28)

Like many Southerners, I have a fig tree—huge, old, gnarled, and prized—that bears bucketfuls of plump, grassy-sweet figs each summer. So sweet, in fact, that they draw not only the usual birds and squirrels, but also a certain stealthy neighbor who must surely keep as close a watch on the fruits’ ripening as we do. Shake it up with a SAZERAC (see page 28)

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)

This dish was an accidental smash hit. Like many of our best sellers, it began as a special and was created in a moment of resourcefulness when we had an overabundance of mushrooms. It quickly became a signature, and it remains one of our most popular items. To achieve the best flavor and texture, it’s essential to sauté the mushrooms in a very hot pan, so they will be nicely browned and crispy.

This sumptuous appetizer stars oysters in an elegant and creamy guise. The oyster mixture spills over the sides of a thick triangle of toasted, buttered bread, and the whole thing is topped off with smoky bacon and snipped chives. The flavors of this dish are great with champagne and have a holiday feel, but it’s delicious anytime you can get great oysters. You could also toss the warm sauté with bow tie pasta for a decidedly rich Sunday supper.

Bruschetta is a version of garlic bread (garlic toast, really), which is good by me because I think garlic should be its own food group. It’s great in just about everything. Fresh mozzarella is the stuff that comes in little round tubs of brine, not the stuff that comes shrink-wrapped and that you put on pizza. It’s soft and creamy and tastes amazing with the crispy bread, garlic, tomatoes, and basil.

Traditionally deep-fried, shrimp toasts can be greasy affairs. During frying, the toasts soak up lots of oil and the shrimp topping often slides off the bread. A few years ago, chef Susana Foo, in her eponymous cookbook, offered an excellent solution for making this popular Chinese snack: baking the toasts. Her idea caught my eye, and I was fast to adapt the method for a Vietnamese version. The end product is a crispy, pinkish orange hors d’oeuvre that is delightfully grease free.

Shortly after the first time I went to Cork Wine Bar, a bustling neighborhood restaurant a few blocks from me in Washington, D.C., I started making one of their signature appetizers for dinner parties. It’s simply bruschetta with sliced avocado, crushed pistachios, a drizzle of pistachio oil, and a sprinkle of fleur de sel. It is rich and pretty perfect as an hors d’oeuvre. When I started making it for myself, it wasn’t quite doing the trick. I wanted a little protein on there, as well as something to cut the richness. A can of one of my favorite products, smoked oysters, was the answer, as were tart green olives. I like to pump up the smokiness even further by tossing the oysters with a little smoked paprika, but I’ll leave that up to you. With or without it, this appetizer has grown up into a meal.

Mushrooms, noble as they may be, are not proud creatures. Poking their heads up from the loam, they stand humbly with a prepossessing calm that more or less begs us to pluck them. Fresh eggs, once you face off the fierce gaze of the hen and pull them from under her warm breast, are similarly good-natured, understated and half-smiling like the oval face of a Modigliani portrait. But dress the egg and the mushroom with a pinch of black truffle and the two rise up, swell with pride, and regale you with their tales of farm and forest.

If there’s anything better than traditional French toast, it’s this crisp, golden variation, made by pressing the bread slices in crushed cornflakes before griddling. Be sure to generously coat both sides of the bread with the cornflakes and use plenty of butter on the griddle. Serve with maple syrup, sautéed bananas (see Banana Walnut Pancakes, page 122), fruit compote (see pages 276 to 278), or homemade jam, such as Strawberry Jam (page 280).

French Toast is the perfect way to use up day-old bread. If you’ve made Raisin Challah Bread (page 61), go ahead and use up the leftovers the next morning. Good-quality store-bought thick-cut raisin bread will also work. Cut your challah slices on the thick side, about 3/4 to 1 inch thick, so that when you griddle them, the outside will be crisp and the inside will be moist and creamy. Serve with lots of syrup, homemade jam, sautéed bananas (see Banana Walnut Pancakes, page 122), fresh bananas and strawberries, or the fruit compote of your choosing (see pages 276 to 278).

You can serve this brunch favorite as soon as it’s ready, or keep it warm for up to twenty minutes, loosely covered with a clean, damp kitchen towel in a 200°F oven. Avoid using very soft white bread as it tends to fall apart when dipped into the egg mixture. It’s best to use a firm bread such as a large baguette or sourdough loaf. In fact, French toast is a great way to use up slightly stale bread, and you can make this with just about anything from a baguette to brioche to a cinnamon raisin loaf.

Crisp toast, lightly burned at the edges, with a cargo of melting cheese is to my mind the ultimate snack. Spike it with mustard and I am probably at my happiest, but I do play around with the genre too: a layer of apple or homemade chutney under the cheese; a few bitter leaves of chicory or hot watercress on the side; a few capers, maybe. Sometimes I take the recipe up a notch to give something that is more of a meal than a snack. Like when I trap a layer of cooked spinach between bread and cheese, or just mix the two together and give them a crust of toasted Parmesan. I could add that this is also a sound way of using bits of cheese that have accumulated in the fridge.

Dried porcini are expensive, but even a small handful added to a soup will bring with it a wave of smoky, almost beefy notes. A general instruction with parsnip soup is to prevent the vegetables coloring, presumably to keep the soup pale, but I suggest the opposite. You want the parsnips to cook to a gentle golden color before you add the stock; that way the soup will have a deeper flavor and a color reminiscent of heather honey.

I relish the frugality and bonhomie of a bowl of onion soup. This is slightly richer and thicker than the one in The Kitchen Diaries, possibly for colder weather. I don’t often use flour to thicken a soup but in this case it produces a particularly velvety texture.

Of all the hot snacks I put together, it is this unctuous topping of onions, thick toast, and highly seasoned melted cheese that pleases most. The onions need to cook, with the occasional stir as you pass, for a good fifteen minutes or so. They are ready only when they are truly soft and golden—there is no shortcut. The leftover cold beer solves the problem of what to drink with your meal.

I can live without nibbles with drinks (you might get an olive if you’re lucky), but from time to time the genre gets an outing. They tend to be more substantial than most, as I have a fear of anything that might fit the name canapé. Little rounds of toast piled with grilled eggplant in a lemon and herb dressing is a tantalizing mixture of crisp and soft.

I cannot serve this salad without thinking of my friend Stephanie Stuckey-Benfield. Her family is the Stuckey’s of the roadside stores and Pecan Log Rolls. Her grandfather opened his first pecan stand in 1937. This simple stand evolved into a veritable empire of Stuckey’s Pecan Shoppes, the highway heaven of souvenirs, cold drinks, and pecan candy. The pecan log roll, for the uninitiated, is a secret combination of sweet, fluffy goo in a coating of crushed pecans, created by Stephanie’s grandmother. In this recipe, once the goat cheese is rolled in pecans it looks undeniably like the candied confection, although the taste is savory.