Food Processor

This North African condiment is made from puréed sweet peppers and chiles. Use it to spice up a soup, roast meat, or grilled vegetables; as a sandwich spread; or as a sauce with rice or couscous dishes.

Fresh-made, homemade breadcrumbs have some obvious uses: sprinkled over a gratin to form a crust; as a coating for about-to-be-fried meats, fish, and vegetables; and to give a lighter texture to stuffings and meatballs. But in my kitchen they also have a major role as a sort of endlessly versatile crunchy sauce: golden, fresh-toasted breadcrumbs, tossed with almost any chopped fresh tender herb or combination of herbs (parsley, marjoram, thyme) and perhaps a little fine-chopped garlic, and then strewn over almost anything—pasta, vegetables, roasts, salads—as a finishing touch. Recently I’ve started to embellish toasted breadcrumbs with fried herbs. I fry the leaves of herbs such as rosemary, sage, and winter savory in olive oil for a minute (or less), just until crisp and then toss them with the crumbs. Not all breads make good fresh breadcrumbs. Most bagged, sliced, commercial breads—the kinds with preservatives and added sweeteners—simply won’t work: the additives reduce bread’s natural crumbiness and the sweeteners add the wrong flavor and cause overrapid browning. Breadcrumbs are best made from bread that has had a day or two to dry out just a little. Fresh bread has too much internal moisture to make good crumbs. Instead it clumps, forming moist wads of bread instead of integral crumbs. For breading and frying, loaves of fine-textured white bread such as pain de mie or pullman bread make the best crumbs. For toasted breadcrumbs, however, I prefer to use levain bread or another coarse-textured, country-style bread. These kinds of breadcrumbs are different from breadcrumbs made from completely dried out bread, and are totally different from the crumbs sold in boxes at the grocery, which are too fine, don’t taste good, and just won’t work for the recipes in this book. The easiest way to turn bread into breadcrumbs is with a blender or food processor. First remove the crust; it’s too tough and crumbs with crust in them brown unevenly. Cut the crustless bread into cubes and process them in batches. The bread should be thoroughly ground up so the crumbs are more or less the same size; this will ensure even browning while cooking. Crumbs to be used for breading need to be ground very fine, so they will stick to and evenly coat whatever is being breaded. Crumbs to be toasted can be coarse or fine, depending on the end use. When toasting crumbs, toss them first with olive oil (or melted butter or duck fat) and spread them evenly on a baking sheet. Every few minutes or so, stir them with a metal spatula. The crumbs along the edges of the pan always brown first, so mix these in well, moving them into the center away from the outer edges. The crumbs brown slowly at first, because they must dry before they brown, but they finish quickly during the last minute or two of toasting. Keep a close eye on them towards the end of their cooking time to prevent overbrowning. If you find you have more old bread than you can use, turn it into crumbs and freeze them for future use. When there is no dried-out bread and you need to make crumbs, cut thick slices of fresh bread and put them on a baking sheet in a warm oven to dry out slightly before processing.

Tequila makes a tangy partner for sweet apricots in this fresh take on ice cream. Although nothing compares to the flavor and texture of ice cream made from scratch, you can take a shortcut and simply fold the tequila-soaked apricots into a half gallon of softened vanilla-bean ice cream from your supermarket.

My mom made a variation of this dessert from the time I was a little girl. I’m not exactly sure where she got the recipe, but I know it came from one of my aunts in Guadalajara. You just need to know that my uncle Ernesto would drive from his house in San Diego across the border into Tijuana to go to my mom’s house when she announced she was making strawberry pie. It’s not traditional or very Mexican, especially in its original form. She used to use a store-bought graham-cracker pie crust (which you are free to use), but I have concocted a much tastier crust using the traditional Maria cracker and piloncillo (unrefined solid cane sugar, usually found in the shape of small truncated cones). What I absolutely left alone is the filling—a fluffy, creamy, perfectly sweet filling that I could eat an entire bowl of if given a spoon. The amounts given will also work with a 9-inch round tart pan with removable bottom if you don’t want to make individual tartlets.

I am obsessed with mayo, especially homemade mayo. All it takes is a little patience, and the end result is much brighter and smoother than any store-bought variety. It’s traditionally made by hand, by vigorously beating with a whisk, but I make it in a food processor, which is much easier. I always have a batch of this chipotle mayo in the fridge; you can easily omit the chipotles for a mayo base to which you could add any sort of flavorings. Raw eggs are used in this recipe, so it’s best to not serve this to pregnant women, children, or anyone with a compromised immune system. If you use pasteurized egg yolks, however, you can serve it to whomever you like.

Traditional basil pesto gets a run for its money with this bright, flavorful Mexican version of the Italian original. Cilantro pesto is best on cold pasta salads and is great as a topping on grilled chicken or fish.

A fresh salsa verde, or green sauce, made with tomatillos is a perfect condiment for almost any meal (I like it on grilled chicken tacos), and just as good as a dip for tortilla chips.

This is my interpretation of the traditional Mexican dish of sautéed chorizo and boiled potatoes, which is usually eaten with tacos or queso fundido (melted cheese fondue). In Mexico, chorizo, potatoes, and cheese always go together. But my favorite part of this dish is the crust—it’s perfect for any quiche.

There was always a roast chicken in our fridge when I was growing up—but I’d be lying if I said my mom cooked it. There was a wonderful rotisserie place a few blocks from my house and they would deliver a succulent roast chicken, fresh salsa, homemade tortillas, and frijoles charros (like the frijoles on page 155 but with tons of bacon in the mix). We’d all stand around the kitchen table and make soft tacos, adding a few slices of avocado. We used leftovers for chicken salad, flautas (rolled up and fried chicken tacos), or tostadas (fried tortillas spread with refried beans, topped with shredded chicken, shredded iceberg lettuce, crema, salsa, avocado slices, and, in my house, a drizzle of olive oil and red wine vinegar). This recipe is so easy and yields such a flavorful, succulent chicken that I doubt any rotisserie place in your neighborhood can rival it. And I doubt you’ll have leftovers. But if you do, go to town with tortillas, beans, avocado, and any of the salsas in this book and make tacos.

I love tandoori-style cooking, derived from India’s clay tandoor oven, because the chicken stays unbelievably moist and juicy, even after grilling. To give new life to the traditional yogurt-based marinade, I add flavors more indigenous to Mexico and pair this dish with a pineapple and serrano salsa.

Avocado gives this dairy-free soup its creamy texture. For a super-sophisticated presentation, serve it in chilled martini glasses and garnish each one with a drizzle of Mexican crema or crème fraîche. If you prefer a soup with a thinner consistency, add water until it’s exactly the way you like it.

In Tijuana, as soon as the days get a little warmer, the street vendors start to appear with giant bunches of squash blossoms. I grew up eating squash blossoms sautéed and stuffed in quesadillas, served with fresh raspberries. The addition of mascarpone, an Italian triple-cream cheese, takes the dish to a whole new level.

There are several varieties of avocado, each with a slightly different flavor. For this recipe, I use Hass, the most common type sold in supermarkets in the U.S. Choose ripe avocados (slightly firm but yielding to gentle pressure), and be sure to remove any brown spots before you start. If you don’t have time to prepare the garlic-oregano crostini, this creamy and luxurious spread is great on any savory cracker.

The combination of strawberry jam and piney rosemary may sound strange, but together they add up to the perfect blend of sweet and savory—and these scones, which are a bit lighter in texture than regular ones, smell incredible as they bake. I think using a heart-shaped biscuit cutter makes them even prettier.

Brunch is a funny meal; many of the main dishes are sweet enough to make dessert seem almost redundant. That’s why I like to serve this dish, which is bright and fresh from the citrus with a hint of licorice from the fennel. It bridges the gap between salad and dessert, ending the meal on a sweet but not heavy note.

I love desserts that transform just a few simple ingredients into a show-stopping confection. Honey gives this rich tart an intriguing, elusive flavor and floral aroma. Serve the tart in small wedges, as it is extremely rich, or cut it into little triangles to pack along on a picnic.

Mascarpone cheese gives this dessert a smooth, creamy texture, making it more like a sherbet than an ordinary granita. Best of all, you don’t need to scrape it as it freezes to create icy granules, so it’s truly a snap to make. Serve it with tiny glasses of limoncello for a perfect summer dessert.

Only the mascarpone and the ladyfingers in this lemony dessert give a nod to a traditional tiramisù, but my California spin on this beloved dessert is just as addictive. I think lemon makes everything taste a bit lighter (so I can eat more without feeling weighed down!), and the hazelnuts add a delicate flavor and lots of crunch. So while no one will mistake this for the original, I promise it will make anyone you serve it to very, very happy.

Most of my desserts are fairly low-maintenance to assemble, so I hesitated to include the recipe for these in this book. But they are so incredibly irresistible and delicious—imagine a homemade candy bar with a chewy caramel center—that I decided it would be unfair not to. Take care not to overcook the caramel, so it stays soft and chewy and doesn’t become hard and brittle. Investing in a candy thermometer takes away the guesswork and ensures a perfect outcome.