Pecan

These flavor-infused pecans somehow manage to be crunchy, sweet, savory, and spicy—all at the same time. It’s a dangerously addictive combination that also happens to play well with just about every cocktail it meets. For pretty party favors or stocking stuffers, package these fragrant nibbles in sheer organza or cellophane bags tied with colored ribbons. Shake it up with a MINT JULEP (see page 27)

If this recipe looks too daunting at first blush, you might consider making it in stages. The syrup for the praline mousse can be made two days in advance, and the cake can be made the day before the dessert is assembled. Or tackle just the cake the first time, and serve it with some strawberry jam and a little whipped cream on the side. Then imagine how good (and beautiful) the cake will be with the mousse on the inside. I prefer to assemble the roulade in the morning and give it all day to get moist and flavorful in the refrigerator. Some sliced ripe strawberries or peaches send it over the top.

One of my first memories of New Orleans was gathering the pecans off the ground at the naval base where my father was stationed, then sitting around a table with my family at night, watching Adventures in Paradise and shelling the seemingly bottomless pile. We had nutpicks, silver utensils with curved sharp tips, for digging out the tiny pieces of shell trapped in the crevices of each nut meat—talk about tedious! But I was always proud to have the cleanest and choicest halves to offer up for my mom’s approval. I was surprised when I went to France to cook at the jazz festival in Nice and learned that I had to bring my own pecans to make pecan pie (the nuts are not indigenous there)! It followed, then, that I would use local nuts to create this New Orleans rendition of the more classic Trout Amandine.

These lend a spicy bite to just about any green salad, particularly Crispy Smoked Quail Salad with Bourbon-Molasses Dressing (p. 127). But they’re also a delicious snack to serve with any of the killer cocktails in the last chapter.

The three main ingredients in this recipe—pecans, cornmeal, and catfish—are all common in Southern cooking. The carrot slaw served on the side is lighter in fat and calories than more traditional mayonnaise-based slaws.

We use phyllo dough in this recipe to make a tasty little dessert that is almost like mini baklavas. They’re perfect for parties because you can pick them up easily and they aren’t messy. The only problem is, you’ll have to make lots because they go like hotcakes!

Okay, this isn’t really fried (which is a good thing), but the crunchy cinnamon crust with cold, creamy ice cream inside does a good job of imitating fried ice cream. It’s so delicious that everyone will be asking for seconds. Make it to share with friends, and keep it in your freezer in a covered container to eat whenever you get sick of boring, plain old ice cream out of the carton. To make a vegan version, use margarine and nondairy ice cream.

This type of cake recipe—using oil, not butter, and without eggs—was first developed during the Depression era, when milk and eggs were scarce and expensive. Rather than forgo sweets entirely, families developed recipes that worked around the limited availability of certain foods. Obviously, the availability of dairy isn’t an issue anymore, but this history means that there are plenty of pretty good dessert recipes ready-made for vegans.

OK, in my wildest dreams I couldn’t come up with a more perfect dessert for myself. Bourbon, ice cream, buttermilk, pecans, and light, buttery-crispy profiteroles; it doesn’t get any better for me (except for maybe the Blueberry Lemon Crêpes, page 198 . . . oh, and the Blackberry Soufflé, page 196). For some reason my sweet tooth always leans toward anything southern, and anything with bourbon in it is all right by me.

German’s Chocolate Cake is every bit as American as apple pie. German refers not to the country but rather to the last name of the originator of the type of chocolate used in the original recipe—Baker’s German’s Sweet Chocolate. I’ve kept the essentials of the classic recipe in place—chocolate cake layered with caramel, coconut, and pecans—but tweaked them just enough to proudly call this version my own. The cake itself is dark, moist, and truly chocolaty, and a glaze of chocolate ganache heightens the chocolate flavor without the overpowering sweetness of a traditional buttercream frosting. The real twist is found in the cake’s inner layers: my caramel of choice is cajeta, a liquid dulce de leche Mexican treat of sweetened goat’s milk cooked into a rich, syrupy caramel with smooth coconut milk. And forget a scoop of vanilla ice cream; fluffy coconut whipped cream is the last touch in this to-die-for dessert.

It used to be that flapjacks were made from a cornbased batter, this being the major distinction between them and their close cousin pancakes, which were made from a wheat flour–based batter. Today the two terms are roughly synonymous, though I love the heartiness that the term flapjacks implies, and the three that we stack up per serving are more than enough to satisfy even the hungriest Bar Americain bruncher. That said, the buttermilk in the batter makes the flapjacks light and fluffy, as does taking care not to overmix the batter and giving it ample resting time before you start cooking. Instead of folding the tasty extras into the flapjack batter, I load warm maple syrup with the good stuff—crunchy pecans and sweet apricots. Apricot season is short, and finding really flavorful ones is not always easy, so I use dried apricots in the syrup, rehydrating them in simple syrup and then roasting them. The sugars are slightly caramelized in the process, and the fruit’s sweet, slightly tart flavor is magnified.

Dirty rice is a traditional Cajun dish of white rice cooked with chopped chicken livers. The liver darkens, or “dirties,” the rice and infuses it with its mild yet distinctive taste. My version is classically flavored but prepared in a not-so-traditional manner: I use Arborio rice, cook it as I would a risotto, and fold in cooked wild rice as one of the last steps so that its nutty flavor and chewy crunch run throughout the dish. I think of this as a Louisiana-style dish, and the southern flavors of deep bourbon and sweet, crunchy pecans are fitting accomplices to the rich duck and aromatic rice.

This salad is a showcase for fresh figs. They make a brief appearance in most marketplaces, so you’ve got to make the most of their honey-sweet flesh when you can. Slices of richly flavored, smoky-salty Kentucky ham make a fantastic pairing. Kentucky ham is a dry-cured country ham comparable to an Italian prosciutto or Spanish Serrano ham. While you could substitute either, I love both the taste and the homegrown appeal of Kentucky ham. Sweet pecans add a bit of crunch to the salad, and the tangy molasses-mustard vinaigrette enhances its southern vibe.

Keeping a batch of slice-and-bake cookies in the refrigerator at all times is one of the smartest things a hostess can do. Fire up the oven, slice off as many as you need, bake them off, and you’ve got dessert in less than 30 minutes. Thanks to my old friend and pastry chef Jeannie Hemwattakit for lending me her recipe for these delicate, buttery cookie thins, which never last long in the refrigerator or on the cookie plate.

A great do-ahead dessert for a large crowd. Although I make it most often with fresh peaches, the recipe works with just about any fruit-nut combo you can dream up, including fresh berries and hazelnuts, fresh pears and almonds, bananas and pecans, or even craisins or raisins and pecans.

I met chef Kevin Stewart and his partner, Richard Cordray, at my friend Loncito Cartwright’s South Texas ranch. Kevin prepared this dish using Loncito’s grass-fed lamb and I asked for the recipe, named after Kevin and Richard’s former Marfa restaurant, Blue Javalina. Wild packs of javalinas—compact, coarse-haired, piglike animals with short snouts—roam the high plains of West Texas. Javalinas do not come in blue, nor do they make for great eating. Loncito’s lamb is a different story. His grass-fed lamb has a mild taste that appeals to even the most reluctant lamb eater. It is available at select farmers’ markets and specialty foods stores throughout Texas.

I keep a batch of these buttery, cheese-laden cookies on hand for drop-in guests year round as they’re better than a bowl of mixed nuts and just about as easy to make. Versatile, attractive, and positively addictive, they’re great for a before-dinner nibble, a cocktail party hors d’oeuvre, or a pre-theater or movie snack with a glass of wine.

A lifelong praline devotee, I’d never seen a white version until longtime customers and friends Diane and John B. Connally III introduced me to Ginny Marye Sharman. I lamented that I’d been searching in vain for a great, new, party-worthy praline, when Ginny said, “I have the one for you. It’s my daddy’s.” She sent me the recipe with the following note, “Chubby Marye, my daddy, was from Alexandria, Louisiana, and loved to cook! He always made his white pralines on cold winter evenings. I learned to make them watching him. It’s a family tradition that he learned from his mother, Mama Dee.” I tried it immediately. Not only was it the easiest praline recipe I’ve ever encountered, it was also one of the tastiest. My mother’s recipe, for example, demands intensive beating with a wooden spoon. Ginny’s recipe takes a beating, but for only half the time. Chubby’s pralines make a fine finale for any party; or wrap them up in waxed paper, seal with an embossed sticker, pile them in a decorative bowl, and hand them out at the end of the evening as favors. (Pictured on page 164, top tray.)

I make batches of these in mini muffin pans, wrap them well, freeze them, and keep them on hand for last-minute parties. What a relief it is to have a dessert ready and waiting for an impromptu dinner. The only problem: I know where they are, and sometimes, especially late at night, I can’t resist unwrapping a few and eating them. (Yup, they’re pretty good frozen.) Before long, my party stash has dissipated, and I have to make some more. (Pictured on page 164, center tray.)