Pecan

Discovering something new to bake is half the fun of attending potlucks. I’m always on the lookout for new recipes that others might enjoy. One of my servers gave me this recipe, which her grandmother has been making for as long as she can remember. I took these bars to a recent potluck supper, where they drew raves and more than a few requests for copies of the recipe.

My cousin Vera sent me this recipe from Ann (Mrs. Dan) K. Lucy, a regular at the Elderville Cemetery Association’s annual homecoming picnic held on the grounds of the modest East Texas church where my great-great-grandparents met. It did not look promising. How could a layer of common graham crackers with butter, sugar, nuts, and toffee tossed on top amount to much? Then I made them—and repented. (My sincerest apologies to Mrs. Lucy.) I have taken this confection to several potlucks and have yet to escape without someone (or two or even three fellow guests) begging me for the recipe. I have made them a day in advance and been unable to resist snacking on them—just a few at a time, mind you—so that by the time they arrived at their intended destination their numbers were severely diminished. These crisp little squares are divine, seriously addictive, and making them is almost as easy as dropping dollar bills into the church-offering basket.

My friend Stirling Greenlee’s sense of humor is as well developed as her cooking skills. She admits to being a fervent potluck lover, and I suspect it may be because she says that for years her idea of formal dining was eating from a tablecloth without cat hair. One of her most amusing potluck stories involves a less than successful event where guests were asked to bring something that “reminds you of your childhood.” Much to her horror, everyone brought white food—bland grits, milk toast, angel food cake. “As soon as everyone got out of there I imagine they bolted and went straight to Burger King,” she recalls. Too bad no one thought of butterscotch brownies, a childhood favorite of mine. This version features a sugary, lightly caramelized butter icing that ensures the brownies stay moist and travel well. On top of that, the king-size recipe makes it a top-tier candidate for large potlucks, as well as picnics and family gatherings.

Everyone makes zucchini bread, but somehow it feels so blah to bring another loaf of this admittedly delicious stuff to a potluck. Here’s a new take on the old theme, using butternut squash, which lends a golden hue and a delicate flavor to the bread. Large loaves, which can be sliced on-site, work beautifully as potluck fare. Wrapped mini loaves tied with ribbons and adorned with handwritten tags make memorable party favors. For family reunions, spell out the family name, the date, and the reunion site, such as “Wright Family Reunion, May 2009, Elderville Churchyard.” Just about any event, from wedding showers and baptisms to graduations and birthday parties, can be commemorated this way, leaving guests with a nonperishable memento that can be saved in scrapbooks long after the last scrap of bread disappears.

This elegant appetizer or starter salad for a dinner party celebrates two loves: goat cheese and roasted beets. It takes more time than a simple tossed salad, but all can be done in advance for entertaining. Mixing red beets with golden and candy-striped varieties makes an especially gorgeous presentation. The CKC chèvre that I use is from Chrissy Omo, a local cheesemaking prodigy. (For more about Chrissy, see opposite page.) Although I highly recommend it, CKC cheese is hard to get outside of the Austin–Hill Country area. Support your local cheesemaker by checking out neighborhood farmers’ markets.

I placed this dish in the dessert chapter, but it’s so filling it might be best thought of as a brunch dish, or perhaps dessert-for-dinner. Adding sweetened bread crumbs to the preparation makes a French toast with extra crunch and a dark exterior, a nice contrast to the light, moist interior. I’ve turned the French custard toward the tropics by using coconut milk, and taken the topping to New Orleans with the classic combination of bananas, butter, rum, and pecans. Any other seasonal fruit can work: sliced apples or peaches sautéed in butter, fresh berries, or, when the fruit bowl is empty, your favorite jam.

My introduction to the joys of room-temperature farro salad came years ago in Boston, when I wrote an article about two chef-couples’ different approaches to an outdoor dinner party. Gabriel Frasca and Amanda Lydon, who have since taken over the storied Straight Wharf restaurant on Nantucket to much acclaim, cooked the farro in the oven, then combined it with, among other things, fresh cherries, blanched and sautéed broccoli rabe, and pecans. Besides scaling it down to single-serving size, I stripped down their method considerably, standing in fresh arugula for the broccoli rabe so I don’t have to cook it, adding protein in the form of chickpeas, and using dried cherries instead of fresh because I can get them year-round.

This elegant soup has a depth of flavor, brightened by orange and layered with smoked paprika, that would make it right at home as a dinner party starter. For yourself, pair it with a side salad and a big piece of crusty bread, and it’s dinner tonight, while you plan the party for another day.

One of the earliest descriptions we got from our crack pie addicts was, “It’s like a pecan pie, without the pecans”—which I secretly hated. It’s so much more, and so much less. But one day we finally read between the lines and sarcastically, we thought, made a crack pie with pecans in the pie. It blew my mind a little. There aren’t too many boundaries in terms of the variations. So get crazy.

This is an old family recipe. It really is a pie—as it bakes, it makes its own crust.

Lisa, our head chef and night kitchen manager, whips these pies up fresh daily for our guests in the restaurant. They go great with our homemade vanilla ice cream.