Herbs & Spices

When you buy your quail, try to get the biggest ones you can find, and make sure they’re semi-boneless, meaning only the drumsticks and wings are left intact for the shape of the finished bird. When you’re working with a bird this tiny, having someone else bone it is helpful. If you have mad knife skills, go for it. Using foil strips like huge twist ties helps set the shape of the quail as they cook, resulting in a pleasingly plump little package. Soft Polenta (page 66) and braised greens are the perfect accompaniments.

This riff on veal piccata is not a complicated dish, but it does have a few steps to it and requires some planning to allow the sweetbreads time to soak overnight. Poaching the sweetbreads in milk and aromatics before sautéing them ensures they’ll turn out sweet and meltingly tender. I prefer veal sweetbreads, though you can use lamb. Either one is usually sold in one-pound packs, with two large lobes per pack. If you don’t see them out on display—they’re usually not—ask the butcher if there are any in back, and make sure they are impeccably fresh. The delicate richness of the dish means that nothing more than boiled potatoes are needed as an accompaniment.

You must believe me when I tell you that making sweet, smoky, succulent bacon with your own two hands is an undertaking you will never regret. It adds something indescribable to dishes like Potato and Asparagus Salad with Home-Cured Bacon and Egg (page 137), and tastes pretty amazing alongside a fried egg. In the restaurants, we cure our own and use it in everything from pastas to panzanella to lentils. Aleppo is a medium-spicy, fruity red pepper that comes from Syria. It has a nice complexity and heat that vanishes almost the minute you notice it’s there. You can find it in Middle Eastern groceries and on the Internet. For this recipe, you’ll need four days, a smoker, and wood chips, preferably hickory.

Many recipes that pair carrots with orange call for cooking the carrots with orange juice. Here, I use strips of peel instead, so that you get just a hint of orange, keeping the flavors bright. In the restaurants, we use Thumbelina carrots, a cute, round variety with incredible sweetness. Don’t go crazy chopping the mint—you don’t want to turn it into paste. Just do a few quick strokes with the knife, toss with the carrots, and serve right away. You might want to caution your guests not to eat the orange peel.

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.

Think of this dish as the upscale cousin of that old standby, linguine with clams. Sparkling and oysters are a natural and festive combination, and here they combine to create a quick, fabulous pasta. This dish is almost a lighter version of an oyster stew, with the oysters poached just until done, the sauce brightened with prosecco, and then served over a fresh tangle of tagliarini. This would make a nice addition to a New Year’s Eve menu, or make any winter supper feel like a holiday.

Seattle summers are our best-kept secret—with long, lovely days just hot enough to make you want to stay out of the kitchen and linger outside. The perfect appetizer for a patio barbecue, grilled polenta is easy, crisp, and luscious, and is played to its best advantage when topped with juicy heirloom tomatoes brightened with garlic and anchovy. If you like, substitute basil or another favorite tender herb for the mint. This would also be nice served with a handful of baby greens on the plate.

Spot prawns are actually shrimp, though they do sport four white spots on their shells, which makes the name at least partially accurate. By any name, these firm, sweet, and delicate aquatic beasties are a Pacific delicacy shown to their best advantage when served as a crudo and accented with clean flavors. If you can’t find live spot prawns or other sashimi-grade shrimp, scallops, ahi, or albacore would all work nicely with the chile and mint. Wait to combine the chile, mint, and lime until you are ready to serve so that the lime juice doesn’t “cook” the mint.

Using vanilla in savory dishes has become more popular, but don’t discount it as just a fad. The vanilla adds a depth and a fragrance that your guests probably won’t be able to peg right off the bat, but I guarantee they’ll love the combination. Sea bass has a clean, slightly buttery flavor that really works with the vanilla oil, while the peas add sweetness and texture and the mint brightens the whole thing up. The extra vanilla oil will last up to 2 weeks in the fridge, and makes a fabulous addition to vinaigrettes. Save the vanilla pod and bury it in sugar, or cover it in vodka to make your own extract.

I love broiling Kusshis not only because they have a lovely, delicate texture and a good brininess, but also because they have deeply cupped shells that hold both liquid and a lot of delicious breadcrumbs. Cherrystone clams would be a great substitute, and Totten Virginica, Barron Point, or Shigoku oysters would also work well, because they are the right size to hold up to the heat. Save tiny Kumomotos for eating on the half shell.

Puffed and crackled exteriors make these chewy, intensely spiced cookies as pretty as they are delicious. I got the idea to add coffee to the dough because of how beautifully the flavors of ginger and molasses come together with bitter, smoky coffee. Serve with iced coffee to double the effect.

My Aunt June used to make this boiled vanilla custard almost constantly from Thanksgiving to Christmas so as to keep a steady supply on hand. Ever the ready hostess, June kept the custard stored not in the refrigerator, as you might expect, but in a Tupperware container in the trunk of her car. This ensured that she was never without party supplies, whether she was entertaining at home or calling on friends. We were always glad to see Aunt June coming at that time of year, not least because we knew her famous custard was sure to follow.

Banana pudding is such a Southern classic that I knew I had to include a recipe for it. At the same time, I wanted to give it a bit of a modern twist, and that’s how I came up with Banana Pudding Sliders. You have to learn the rules before you can break them, so here’s my favorite recipe for classic banana pudding—spiked with rum, layered with bananas and vanilla wafers, and crowned with meringue—followed by those sliders I dreamed up.

True pound cake doesn’t include leavening, meaning that it gets all its lift from eggs and the air that is incorporated into the batter when creaming the butter and sugar. For best results, bring the ingredients to room temperature before you begin. Granny’s old-fashioned pound cake is true to its name, calling for a pound each of butter, eggs, flour, and sugar. Proof that “plain” can be a beautiful thing.

Whenever I’m at the market during tomato season, I keep my eyes peeled for what the farmers call “ugly tomatoes.” You can buy them for a song because they’re bruised, misshapen, or ripe to the point of bursting, but that makes them perfect for canning or cooking. This sweet and savory tomato jam, which is equally at home on toast for breakfast or on a baguette with fresh mozzarella and baby greens for lunch, is one of my standards.

My dad used to make these crisp and vinegary dilly beans every summer, in those fleeting moments between the time the bean bushes bear fruit and the grazing deer eat their fill. My sister has since taken over this tradition, and the few precious jars she gives us each year are worth their weight in gold.

My dad’s crunchy, garlicky dills accompanied the majority of the sandwiches I ate as a child. They were perfectly crisp every time—that satisfying snapping sound accompanying each bite was one of the best things about them—a feat my dad achieved simply by using small, firm, freshly picked cucumbers. Try to pick cucumbers that are already short enough to fit easily in the jar, about 4 inches long for pint jars. Or, for unexpected shape, taste, and color, make them using round yellow lemon cucumbers cut into wedges.

Many Southerners keep a steady supply of no-fuss cucumber pickles like these in the fridge all through the summer. They’re great because you don’t even have to turn on the stove: just toss everything together, let it all marinate for a few hours, and you’re good to go. Mild and crunchy, they are sort of a cross between cucumber salad and dill pickles, meaning they’re perfect scattered over a simple green salad with Buttermilk Green Goddess Dressing (page 284), layered in Pimiento Cheese Burgers (page 187) or Pickled Jalapeño Meatloaf (page 191) sandwiches, or placed in a little dish and added to a relish tray.

A classic of the West Coast, this dressing was created in the 1920s by San Francisco’s Palace Hotel in honor of a play by the same name. With buttermilk standing in for sour cream, my “Southern” version is light, tangy, and chock-full of green herbs. It’s the quintessential spring and summer dressing, and because it’s all about using the freshest herbs—whether dill, chervil, sorrel, or cilantro—I almost never make it the same way twice.