Mushroom

I wasn’t enthused about this recipe idea and was not particularly happy when I had to test it. In my opinion, the world didn’t need another mushroom burger. But I went to work and was quickly finished. “At least it didn’t take very long,” I mumbled. I bit into it, expecting the standard, run-of-the-mill mushroom burger you get in every restaurant nowadays, but then I had to pause mid-chew. This was no normal mushroom burger. This—this was a luau in my mouth! Okay, maybe that’s a tiny overstatement, but this is so easy and good, there’s no reason not to make it.

These are light and healthy, and so packed with flavor that everyone will love them. The sauce has a classic combo of Southeast Asian flavors that go so well together—salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. Just be careful with the chili paste. It’s hot . . . really hot.

Crêpes are incredibly delicious and probably one of the most versatile foods you can make. They feel fancy and sound impressive, but are fairly cheap to make. When you make these, do not, I repeat do not use the so-called Parmesan that comes in a green shaker can. Use the real stuff; you’ll need about 3 ounces to make 1 cup.

I made this one day when I was supposed to make dinner for my friends but didn’t have much time. They were totally impressed and begged for the recipe. It’s really fast to make because it uses premade tortellini. That may seem like a cop-out, but who has time to make tortellini from scratch? Plus, the sauce is super creamy and wonderful!

This is my riff on the classic Vietnamese pairing of chicken and fresh straw mushrooms. Because only canned straw mushrooms are available here, I have used fresh oyster mushrooms, a good stand-in with a subtlety that complements the snow peas. If oyster mushrooms aren’t available, use fresh shiitakes, removing their stems and slicing the caps into 1/4-inch-thick pieces. For a light meal, serve this quick stir-fry with Napa Cabbage and Shrimp Soup (page 58), a simple stir-fried vegetable like thinly sliced summer squash, and, of course, rice.

When preparing this Chinese classic, Vietnamese cooks, like their northern neighbors, often rely on canned creamed corn, once considered an exotic foreign import in Asia. The velvety sweet-savory result fuses East and West. Here in the States, fresh corn is plentiful, and making this soup with kernels cut from the cob yields bright flavors that aren’t cloying. Neither cornstarch nor egg is needed to create a creamy texture. The natural starch in the corn provides it. Some cooks add a variety of embellishments to the soup, but I prefer to keep it simple, using only sliced shiitake mushrooms for their flavor, texture, and visual appeal. Make sure you use the sweetest corn possible, whether from your local market or farm stand, fresh or frozen.

A hybrid dish (cua means “crab” in Vietnamese, and farci means “stuffed” in French), this deviled crab is enriched by butter and employs fish sauce to amplify the brininess of the crustacean. Many cooks stuff the crab shells with the raw filling and then fry them. Because it is hard to tell when the filling is cooked, I was taught to sauté it first, which also yields a more flavorful result. I also forgo frying and instead bake the filling in ramekins, topping them with bread crumbs for a crispy finish. What makes this deviled crab special is fresh crabmeat and tomalley (liver) and fat, which you can only get if you start with a whole crab. (If you don’t like the tomalley and fat, omit them for a less rich dish.) Find the freshest, feistiest crab you can, even if it is not a Dungeness, my local species. Live crabs are available at Asian and other markets, but already cooked crabs will work, too—as long as you have a trustworthy fishmonger. Ask when the crab was cooked. And if it has an ammonia-like smell, it is over the hill, so pass it up. You will need about 1/2 pound of crabmeat.

One of my goals with the cuisine at Bar Americain is to re-create the classics of French brasserie cuisine with the best of America’s ingredients. The other is to put my spin on those dishes that make up this country’s culinary heritage. This dish is a perfect example of the latter. Chicken pot pie . . . could it get any more authentically American than that? It’s warm, comforting, and, in this case, super flavorful and beautiful to boot. I opt for a flaky, golden-orange sweet potato biscuit crust that opens up to reveal a garlic- and onion-scented cream sauce studded with juicy chicken, tender vegetables, and flecks of parsley. We make this dish with smoked and roasted chicken at the restaurant, and I love the extra layer of flavor that cold-smoking adds. If you are up to it, follow the directions on page 249 and skip the chipotle in adobo puree or smoked paprika, which approximate that smokiness in the recipe.

Quinoa is a so-called ancient grain recently rediscovered by the modern cook. With a toothsome texture and nutty, earthy flavor, quinoa is also loaded with fiber, omega-3 fatty acids, and vitamin B—even iron! I’m happy to say that it is as delicious as it is healthy. Wild mushrooms reinforce the earthiness of the grain, and aged goat cheese (I like one from New York Hudson Valley’s Coach Farm) brings a sharp focus to the salad. Though more savory than not, the caramelized shallots provide a sweet note to balance the salad’s other components. This comforting salad is a perfect late-fall dish.

Cooking over cedar planks creates amazing flavor, infusing every bite with smoky complexity. And so I decided it was time for salmon to share the cedar love and give burgers some of that star treatment. It works. Since this is, after all, a method born in the Pacific Northwest, it only seems right to outfit the burger with toppings inspired by the region. A barbecue sauce made with Pinot Noir—the grape that put Oregon’s wine on the map—and an earthy sauté of wild mushrooms flavorfully fit the bill.

I’ve been making these for parties ever since I joined forces with my old friend Marianna Green. We both had little babies, and together we catered weddings, birthday parties, and more parties. I froze these two-bite nibbles by the dozen—I always had a batch on standby for last-minute events. They’re still one of my favorite party hors d’oeuvres. No fuss, no muss, no sauce needed.

Miso is a common ingredient in vegan versions of cheesey recipes, because it helps make up for the sharp complexity that’s missing without any dairy products. I love cheese too much to ever leave it out, so why choose? Combining the two together, and adding mushrooms, makes for a powerfully flavored dish that packs a punch of umami. This is a light dinner for one that you can bulk up with a salad.

I came up with this pizza idea when sampling the beautifully made charcuterie of Nathan Anda, who sells at farmers’ markets in the Washington, D.C., area. When he pulled out a package of fatty German-style speck and suggested that it would melt on top of pizza, I had to try it with a bagful of mushrooms I bought from a nearby vendor. He was right: The fat from the speck basted the mushrooms in richness. If you can’t find German-style speck, substitute Italian lardo raw, thinly sliced bacon.

Carnivores need a veggie break now and then, and this taco satisfies. The moist mushrooms stand in for the meat, the onions pack a sweet-spicy punch, goat cheese adds a touch of tart richness, good old lettuce gives the crunch, and a final drizzle of Salsa Verde (page 14) reminds you that, well, every taco can benefit from a final drizzle of salsa.

I never liked raw spinach that much until I started eating it from my sister’s huge garden in southern Maine, where she and her husband grow almost everything they eat—a year-round endeavor, thanks to lots of canning, freezing, and the smart use of greenhouses and the like. She even brought me spinach seeds so I could start growing it in my own community garden. My garden is a tiny fraction of the size of hers, but the spinach comes out of it just as tender and sweet. This recipe barely wilts the spinach, so it still has that fresh flavor, but helps compensate for the sturdier texture of supermarket spinach, if that’s what you need to use, by softening it slightly. If you have tender garden-fresh spinach, you can feel free to let the topping cool before adding it to the spinach for a cold salad instead.

I spend a bundle on mushrooms from a bountiful display at the Dupont Circle FreshFarm Market just about every Sunday—but not in the summer. That’s because mushrooms are available practically year-round (many of them are cultivated), while tomatoes, corn, broccoli, and the like have a shorter season. So I reserve my mushroom purchases for when the bulk of the other seasonal produce has faded or hasn’t quite arrived. In the spring, I love to combine them with one of the items I spend all winter looking forward to: green garlic, basically an immature form of the plant, picked before it has fully formed its bulbous collection of cloves. You can use the whole thing like a leek or green onion (both of them in the same family), but it has the addictive taste of fresh, pungent garlic throughout. Since I also associate spring with eggs, I like to pair them with mushrooms and green garlic in a simple frittata. If you can’t find green garlic or want to make this in another season, feel free to substitute a small leek. Eat this frittata with a side dish, such as salad, bread, and/or hash browns, for a filling 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.