Herbs & Spices

The cocktail takes its name from the single-barrel ninety-proof bourbon whiskey Eagle Rare, but any high-quality bourbon can be substituted. The small amount of fresh lime juice is needed to add brightness to the drink, not flavor.

Sangrita is actually a spicy cocktail mixer meant to be sipped alternately with shots of tequila. However, it can also make a perfect nonalcoholic option to serve at brunch or as an aperitif. Fresh citrus juice adds a bright note, while the guajillo chile and smoked paprika add earthiness (and, of course, smokiness). Caramelizing the onion instead of adding it raw mellows out the flavor and adds a touch of sweetness.

Given my love of grilling and barbecue, this drink was inevitable. Smoky paprika, savory tomato juice, and vodka with a spicy kick meet dry vermouth and tangy lime juice in this cocktail that’s perfect with burgers, steaks, fish tacos (page 107), and, well, almost anything barbecued.

The Bloody Mary is probably the most popular brunch cocktail in the United States and with good reason; spiced-up tomato juice and vodka garnished with a stalk of celery—the classic version—is a perfect weekend pick-me-up. There are many variations of the Bloody Mary that contain everything from beer to beef bouillon. My version has a southwestern theme, where roasted tomatillo sauce—spiked with vinegar and pickled horseradish—joins tomato juice to give the drink great body while adding a slightly tart, slightly smoky flavor.

Each year on the first Saturday of May, you will find me at Churchill Downs, drink in hand, cheering the horses to victory at the Kentucky Derby. The derby is the first jewel in the Triple Crown of Thoroughbred horseracing and is a magical event steeped in tradition. One of those traditions and the drink in my hand mentioned above is the Mint Julep—bourbon, mint, and sugar served in an ice-frosted silver julep cup. My version of this drink may not be traditional, but it is definitely a winner.

This recipe is from Laura Emma, the mother of my friend Sohnne Hill. Sohnne says it was one of her mother’s favorites. After testing it, I know why. Packed with an abundance of fruit, hiding a tender layer of crust in its midst, and topped with a crisp, golden brown top, it is the ultimate comfort dessert.

I named this dense chocolate cake with a mountain of coffee-flavored icing for the 1956 movie Giant. which put the small West Texas town of Marfa on the map. The stars were Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean in his last movie role before he died in a car accident at age twenty-four. Hotel Paisano, where the cast stayed during the filming, still pays homage to the production with a Giant memorabilia room and Jett’s Grill, named after Dean’s character, oilman Jett Rink.

Jim Manning and I attended Ole Miss at the same time, but never met. It wasn’t until later that we crossed paths working for Houston’s Acute Catering and discovered that I’d briefly dated one of his roommates. Jim now heads his own business, Jim Manning Catered Affairs, and is one of Houston’s top caterers. This recipe is a lot of work, but it’s elegant and serves a huge crowd, and most of the labor can be done in advance. It’s a great option if you’re hosting a large-scale event. Otherwise, the recipe can be cut in half or even in quarters.

My friend Yvonne and I tested my Bloody Mary oyster shooters and got lightly “toasted” at the same time. We kept draining our shot glasses and after each one we figured we needed one more, just to make sure the seasoning was right. And besides, each shot glass contained dinner (an oyster and a vegetable) and a drink (a spot of vodka), so why stop before our appetites waned? Before we knew it we’d moved from testing to party mode. We laughingly dubbed our oyster concoction a “party in a shot glass,” and the name stuck. One thing is sure: start slurping these and you’ve got a party whether it’s for just the two of you or for a crowd of your best buddies.

Chef Quincy Adams Erickson and I worked together in Austin during my stint as executive chef for a national chain. A graduate of the famed cooking school Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, Quincy now owns Austin’s Fête Accompli, a catering company specializing in fresh, handmade appetizers. I asked Quincy to give me a cocktail party recipe for this book and, as usual, she came up with a winner. Make sure you have a small cookie cutter that will make bite-size shapes that your guests can easily pop in their mouths. Use whatever shape you’d like: circles, hearts, stars, triangles, or squares.

My old friend David Garrido, a supremely talented chef, came up with a fresh take on mole that combines guajillo chiles with fresh basil, bananas, and dates to create a lively, fruit-sweetened sauce that marries beautifully with chicken. I love this dish for a relaxed but elegant dinner party at home. Skinny bi***es take note: the dish contains little fat, lots of flavor.

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.

I recently happened upon a sand dollar cookie stamp at Der Kuchen Laden, Frederickburg’s topnotch kitchen store, and snapped it up, thinking what a great hit beach-themed cookies would be during Gulf Coast getaways. For kids summering on Bolivar Peninsula, a day at the beach meant a fistful of sand dollars, sugar shells, and colorful beach glass as smooth and opaque as Texas honey. Sand dollars were the hardest to find because the disk-shaped marine creatures habitually burrow into the sand. We’d swim out to the sand bars and dig for dollars by burying our feet a few inches into the sand and sliding along until our toes hit the critters’ hard internal shells. We’d pluck them out of the sand and haul them home. Popular legend holds that sand dollars are really mermaid’s coins. If I’d heard that as a little girl, I surely would have gathered even more. This recipe is a variation on the common shortbread cookie, without eggs or other leavening, because, according to the cookie stamp people, the rising of the cookies obscures the pattern left by the stamp. Makes sense to me. Although it is expensive, I like to use vanilla bean paste because it has little flecks of vanilla seed in it, giving the cookie a sandy, beach look. It is available at kitchen specialty stores and at many upscale grocers.

The origin of the name campechana is a mystery, but just about every Texan I know loves this cool, tomatoey seafood cocktail stocked with plump chunks of ripe avocado and served with a pile of crisp tortilla chips. (I hear it is big in some parts of California, too.) I got stuck on campechana at a place run by legendary Houston restaurateur Jim Goode. He parlayed a small Texas barbecue joint into a homegrown restaurant dynasty that includes a Tex-Mex eatery and two Gulf Coast seafood spots. Campechana is incredibly versatile. As an appetizer, serve in long-stemmed glasses set on plates and surrounded with tortilla chips for dipping. Serve as a main course in a huge bowl, surrounded by chips. Offer individual bowls and let guests ladle up servings themselves. For outdoor or beachside festivities, transport in a large plastic container set in a cooler and serve in clear acrylic stemmed glasses or in disposable plastic glasses. Don’t forget plenty of chips.

Here’s a great party dish that feeds a horde and can be made a day ahead and baked at the last minute. It can handle an endless amount of fiddling—from adding more vegetables (I’ve tucked in layers of sautéed sliced yellow and green zucchini, eggplant, red and green peppers, and mushrooms, to name a few) to tweaks like eliminating all cheese (including in the pesto) for a vegan version created for my lactose-intolerant daughter (see Variation). Buy prepared pesto if you want less prep work.

This cold soup is yet another use for the exploding basil in my garden. I created it for a backyard party that Country Living photographed for a summertime issue. There’s something special and a little bit elegant about starting an alfresco party meal with soup. Texas summers are so hot that I always like to offer something refreshing right off the bat. The gorgeous green color of this soup is set off beautifully by stark white serving bowls.