Rich, luscious and packed with umami, miso-butter sweet potatoes are a spectacular autumn treat

Roasted garnet sweet potatoes, slathered with miso butter and dressed with scallions and furikake

Miso butter is one of those magical ingredients. Creamy and luscious, rich with umami, it puts richness and incredible flavor anywhere you want it, turning the simplest foods into incredible luxuries.

It’s stunningly easy to make: Combine equal amounts of miso with softened unsalted butter. That’s it.

You can use it in a hundred different ways. Plop it on plastic film, roll in a log and chill it (as you would any compound butter), then use slices as needed to melt atop steaks or chops or steamed, braised or roasted vegetables. (Braised kale! Roasted eggplant! Roasted Brussels sprouts!) Stir it into boiled soba noodles or brown rice. Spread it on salmon fillets or chicken breasts before roasting or broiling. 

The most delicious way to use it, as far as we’re concerned, is slathering it on a hot-from-the-oven sweet potato that’s been roasted till creamy-soft, luscious and caramelized. Three ingredients: butter, miso, sweet potato. Infinite autumnal pleasure, essential winter joy. Sure, it’s a bit indulgent, with all that butter, but it’s so good. And it’s a meal in itself. Sometimes I grind black pepper on top.

Last night, I got a little fancier, skipping the black pepper and adding sliced scallions and a sprinkle of furikake — the Japanese condiment of sesame seeds and nori flakes that has become one of my pandemic pantry essentials. A dash of shichimi togarashi (Japanese red pepper flakes in a tiny shaker bottle) added a happy high note. I didn’t realize it while it was happening, but the furikake-togarashi play was inspired by a José Andrés recipe for Miso-Butter Corn.

You don’t really need a recipe for this, but maybe you’d like one. The pleasure’s all mine. And now yours.

RECIPE: Miso-Butter Sweet Potatoes

Classic split pea soup, stupid-easy and satisfying, will keep you cozy and happy all week

There’s something almost magical about classic split pea soup. Sweat some chopped onion and carrot in oil, dump in a bag of dried split peas, add water and a ham hock, and an hour and half later, you’ve got soup.

OK, there’s a tiny bit more work involved. You had to cut up the onion, peel and slice a few carrots. You might have to skim a little oil off the top as it cooks. You need to remove the ham hock, shred or cut up the ham and put it back in, and add salt and pepper.

But really — can you imagine a soup that requires less of the cook? You don’t have to purée it to get that lovely thick texture: The peas purée themselves, breaking down as they cook, but magically retaining just the right amount of integrity. A marvelous alchemy turns just those four simple main ingredients into something beautiful and soul-sustaining.

You could probably add all kinds of things to it, but none of them would make it better than it already was. On top of it, it’s highly affordable, and requires no special equipment. It’s so nutritious and satisfying, it’s a meal in itself.

As it cooks, it fills your living space with beautiful aroma.

We love split pea soup. Make a pot early in the week, and it’ll sustain you and your family for days.

Want in? Here’s the recipe.

RECIPE: Classic Split Pea Soup.

'Jubilee,' 'Japanese Home Cooking' and 'American Sfoglino' are among the 2020 IACP Cookbook Award winners

The International Association of Culinary Professionals announced the winners of its 2020 Book Awards on Saturday, including its prestigious Cookbook Awards.

Toni Tipton-Martin’s Jubilee: Recipes from Two Centuries of African American Cooking (Clarkson Potter) won the top prize, Book of the Year, as well as the award for best cookbook in the American category. Francis Lam was the editor.

In our June review, we called Jubilee “deliciously inspiring,” discussing and including recipes for Tipton-Martin’s Layered Garden Salad, Sautéed Greens and Country-Style Potato Salad. In an earlier story, we raved about her recipe for Pickled Shrimp — which is one of our favorite recipes of the year to date.

Pickled Shrimp from Toni Tipton-Martin’s ‘Jubilee’ is one of our favorite recipes published in 2020.

Sonoko Sakai’s Japanese Home Cooking: Simple Meals, Authentic Flavors (Roost Books) won the prize for best new cookbook in the International category. Sara Berchholz was the editor.

“If you are looking to dive (or tip-toe) into Japanese cooking and seeking one great book to guide you, you can do no better than this delightful volume,” we wrote in our review (also in June). We offered up Sakai’s recipes for Okonomiyaki, Cucumber Sunomono and Koji-Marinated Salmon as evidence.

Okonomiyaki from ‘Japanese Home Cooking’ by Sonoko Sakai

While we haven’t gotten around to reviewing American Sfoglino yet, we do have a story about it in the works, and taking a deep dive into Funke’s pasta-making technique has forever changed the way we’ll approach making pasta by hand. The book won in the Chefs & Restaurants category. A mini-review will be coming soon.

Other titles winning IACP top honors include Pastry Love: A Baker’s Journal of Favorite Recipes by Joanne Chang (Baking category); The Complete Baking Book for Young Chefs by the Editors at America’s Test Kitchen (Children, Youth & Family category); On the Hummus Route by Ariel Rosenthal, Orly Peli-Bronshtein and Dan Alexander (Culinary Travel category) and Milk Street: The New Rules: Recipes That Will Change the Way You Cook by Christopher Kimball (General category). Find a complete list of winners and finalists here.

Congratulations to all the IACP winners and finalists!

What to make this weekend: world-class Beef Bourguignon. You and your family deserve it!

When the weather starts to cool down, there’s nothing as appealing as a living space filled with gorgeous cooking aromas — the kind that come most easily from long-braised dishes. And if you are an omnivore, it’s hard to imagine anything more alluring than the aroma of beef bourguignon, France’s classic stew, simmering in the oven.

In normal times, I think of the dish as something celebratory, or as a dish to enjoy with great friends on a weekend evening with a good bottle of wine.

But during The Great Confinement, we need ways to make family dinners feel special — and now that there’s a nip in the air, this classic fits the bill sumptuously. As Julia Child wrote in Mastering the Art of French Cooking, “Carefully done, and perfectly flavored, it is certainly one of the most delicious beef dishes concocted by man.”

Though you see it done many different ways in the United States, in France the dish is straightforward: It’s cubes of saucy wine-braised beef garnished with mushrooms, pearl onions and lardons (small bars of bacon). Though carrots and celery add significant flavor in the braising, they get strained out before giving the dish its finishing touch: that garnish.

There are no potatoes in the dish (ever), though beef bourguignon is usually served with potatoes — boiled is traditional (toss them with butter and parsley), though many (including some French people) prefer mashed. Buttered noodles are a legit choice as well, according to Child, though my French husband disagrees.

Don’t be in a rush when you make this; once the meat is brown and the thing is assembled, it braises for about an hour and 45 minutes. But as long as time is on your side, it’s not nearly as demanding to put together as you might think.

“Carefully done, and perfectly flavored, it is certainly one of the most delicious beef dishes concocted by man.” — Julia Child

I used to think the peskiest part was browning the cubes of beef: It takes forever to brown them on each side. But inspired by a 2016 story by Serious Eats’ Daniel Gritzer, I started playing with the browning, and agree wholeheartedly with him that in fact it’s best not to do so much browning. My solution is a little different than his: Brown each cube well on one side, then give another side just a quick sear. Compared to the old way, it goes very quickly, and the result is much more tender.

Since publishing our story about it a few years ago, I’ve discovered another time-saving innovation: Rather than blanching and peeling a pound of pearl onions, pick up a pack of frozen ones, which will be already peeled. There might be a teeny, tiny deficit of flavor in the onions themselves, but honestly, it’s barely discernible, and worth it if you want to save a little time and effort. (I can usually find them at my local Trader Joe’s.)

It’s not hard to find the main ingredients: beef chuck, button mushrooms, slab bacon (thick-cut will do in a pinch), pearl onions, red wine, beef shanks. If you don’t find shanks, just buy extra chuck.

Don’t spend much on the wine; use an under-$12 bottle. (Save your wine dollars for whatever you’ll drink with it.) Enjoy the aromas while it cooks, enjoy the dish with your family — and raise a glass to the day we can gather safely with friends once again. I’ll bet you’ll like this dish so much you’ll repeat it for them.

RECIPE: Beef Bourguignon

Celebrate World Butter Chicken Day with the real thing — made quicker, easier and lip-smackingly delicious

Earlier this year — just before The Great Confinement — I became obsessed with butter chicken, and in April tracked down the Delhi-based chef, Monish Gujral, whose grandfather invented the dish.

Since then, I’ve normalized my relationship to the dish, which has taken its place in our home as a favorite for those times when we crave easy-to-conjure comfort that also transports.

READ: “Obsessed with butter chicken: Our recipe follows the world’s favorite Indian dish faithfully back to its origin”

Following the conversations chef Gujral and I had about the dish and its history in April, we have stayed in touch, and in September he texted to say that Moti Mahal — the restaurant where Kundan Lal Gujral invented butter chicken — would soon be celebrating its 100 year anniversary. It opened in October 1920.

I suggested he proclaim the appropriate date in October to be World Butter Chicken Day, to be celebrated every year. After all, butter chicken is no doubt the most popular Indian dish in the universe. It needs a food holiday! The exact date of Moti Mahal’s founding is unknown, so Gujral chose October 20, the birthday of his own son, who Monish says “looks like his great-grandfather,” Kundan Lal.

Monish Gujral, with tandoori chicken — which his grandfather, Kundan Lal Gujral, invented | Photo courtesy of Moti Mahal

So there you have it: this coming Tuesday, October 20 will be the first-ever World Butter Chicken Day. (A bit of research led me to understand that’s how these food holidays get created: Someone simply creates them, and they either catch on or they don’t.) 

#WorldButterChickenDay is an auspicious day, of course, to enjoy murgh makhani (butter chicken in Hindi), salute its origin — and (it struck us both) make a tax-deductible contribution to the United Nations’ World Food Programme or other nonprofit organization fighting global hunger.

With all the excitement around murgh makhani and its origins, it has also felt like the moment to revisit our Ultimate Butter Chicken recipe, my adaptation of Gujral’s original. Keeping as close as practicable to his recipe, published in his 2009 book, Moti Mahal: On the Butter Chicken Trail (later re-published in as On the Butter Chicken Trail, Ultimate Butter Chicken has been the gold-standard murgh makhani in our kitchen. However, it requires four hours of marination, leading me on occasion to reach instead for Urvashi Pitre’s excellent Instant Pot version.

That said, for all the ease and quickness of Pitre’s recipe, which gets to the table in 30 minutes, it sometimes leaves me missing the depth of flavor that marinated-then-roasted chicken — more like tandoori chicken — brings to the dish. (For the Instant Pot version, raw chicken is pressure-cooked in the sauce components.)

Back into the test kitchen I went, playing with murgh makhani, and I’m excited to debut a new, greatly simplified version: World Butter Chicken. It’s much much quicker to execute than Gujral’s excellent version, and if my extremely critical family is to be believed, it’s every bit as wonderful.

The secret of the recipe is compressing the original two-step, four-hour marination into a one-and-a-half step one-hour marination. The resulting chicken tandoori thighs are perhaps even better than the first iteration; I’d be thrilled to eat them even without the sumptuous butter chicken sauce.

Nipping three hours out of the marination time means it’s on the table in 90 minutes or less, an hour of which is unattended marinating time. That’s when you can make the cucumber raita and coriander chutney that are great to serve with it, and get basmati rice ready to cook. While the chicken thighs roast (20 to 35 minutes depending on their size), you can make the sauce and the rice. 

Congratulations to Moti Mahal on its first hundred years, and many thanks to Monish Gujral and his family for the gift of murgh makhani.

Happy World Butter Chicken Day!

RECIPE: World Butter Chicken

Creamy, gooey and stupendously satisfying, classic mac and cheese is a meatless Monday favorite

When you think of comfort food, what’s the first dish that comes to mind?

Did you say macaroni and cheese? We’re not surprised. Rich, creamy and irresistible, it’s one of the most soothing and craveable of comfort foods.

As far as we’re concerned, if you’re going to indulge in such a rich and carbo-charged situation, you deserve one that delivers on its promise — which means it’s worth stepping away from the box and taking matters into your own hands. (Yep, we know more than a few legit cooks who still revert to Kraft when the craving strikes.)

You won’t be sorry.

It’s easy to make mac and cheese that’s out of this world — one that’s lush and mellow, gloriously cheesy, outrageously creamy, with beautifully browned bread crumbs on top for texture. Piping hot and melty from the oven, it’s just the thing for this particular Meatless Monday in a nervous-making October.

Boil up some macaroni. Make a bechamel. Stir in lots of grated cheese. Season judiciously with Tabasco. Mix it all together. Top with bread crumbs and parm, dot with butter, bake. You’re just 20 minutes from sending a spoon down into that gorgeous tubular creamitude.

Gather your crew, if you have one; they’ll be eager to dive in.

Or savor it solo. Add a simple green salad (or not), maybe a glass of white wine. A few bites in, all will be right with the crazy world.

RECIPE: Classic Mac and Cheese

Pickle-y, spicy giardiniera is the perfect prelude to pasta, pizza and other carb-loaded indulgences

Everyone knows that if you precede something fattening with something purely vegetable, fat-free, gluten-free and crunchy, the fattening thing you eat after that doesn’t count.

Taquería carrots before chicken enchiladas, rice and beans? A zero-calorie equation.

OK, maybe in our dreams.

Still, I’m always looking for something light and refreshing to nibble before an extravagant plate of pappardelle with ragù bolognese, rich and creamy mac-and-cheese or a pizza.

Since I was a kid, I always loved giardiniera — the crunchy, tangy, lightly spicy pickled vegetable condiment that would make cameo appearances in neighborhood Italian restaurants, where small dishes of it would appear on red-and-white checked tableclothes as we waited for our spaghetti and meatballs or pepperoni pizza. That was my favorite way of eating cauliflower back then, and we loved the crunchy corrugated-cut carrots and celery.

In any case, I’ve been on the lookout for jars of good giardiniera at my local Italian grocery lately, and haven’t been delighted by what I’ve found. That’s why I was excited to see a recipe for it in Alex Guarnaschelli’s new book, Cook With Me.

In fact, I’ve now made five recipes from the book, and the giardinera is by far my favorite.

It starts by soaking cut-up vegetables and garlic overnight in salt water, so you need to plan that for the day before you want to start serving it. Then you simmer up a batch of brine — white wine vinegar combined with salt and spices — let it cool slightly and pour it over the soaked-and-drained vegetables.

Vegetables for giardiniera mixed with pickling brine

A couple hours later, you have giardiniera.

Guarnaschelli’s original recipe made about 6 pints, which is great if you either give most of it away or sterilize jars for long-term storage.

I like to keep things simple, so I halved her recipe. No need to sterilize; the recipe makes 3 pint-sized jars of pickled veg. For us, that’s perfect for keeping two and giving one away.

And then I’ll make it again very soon — maybe upping the serrano chile or chile flakes a bit, or adding some pepperoncini and bay leaf to the mix.

Till then, you’ll find me happily crunching away.

RECIPE: Alex Guarnaschelli’s Giardiniera

Fridge-clearing and fabulously flavorful, Sunday Souper Soup will set you up deliciously for the week

When a nation of restaurant-goers turns (almost overnight!) into a society of captive home cooks, the stresses caused by fridge management can be monumental.

Keeping everyone in comfort food is easy: There’s pasta and cheese for that. Rice concoctions galore. Potatoes are a no-brainer in any form. Pizza is a track-pad click away.

Still, you diligently keep the fridge stocked with healthy fresh things: broccoli and kale, carrots and cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, salad greens and herbs.

So that by Sunday, the crisper drawer is stuffed with stuff that’s not so crisp, and you’re left beating yourself up about waste. Meanwhile, what are you going to put on the dinner table in the coming week?

If besides all that stuff you can rustle up a few basic staples, I’ve got great news for you: You can turn those hapless refrigerator victims into a Sunday super-soup that’s so incredibly flavorful that no one would ever suspect you of anything so nefarious as using up tired greens. It’ll solve the coming week’s lunch question and provide a dinner or two — all while saving money and helping you dodge a food-waste bullet.

It gets even better: You can pack the soup with an arsenal of life-affirming, enchantingly aromatic spices and herbs that turn the whole project into an anti-inflammatory, anti-oxidant, flavonoid-rich powerhouse. It is vegan and gluten-free, and therefore sends you into the coming week feeling vital and positive. That gigantic pan of bacon-enriched mac-and-cheese you devoured on Thursday, washed down with three glasses of wine? It is vitamin water under the comfort-food bridge. Today is a new day.

The essential staples you’ll need: onions, carrots and celery (diced together they make what the French call mirepoix); lentils; a can of tomatoes; olive or other oil; salt and pepper. These, plus water, form the base of the soup. And if you follow our master recipe, that’s all you really need for a delicious one. The basic outline is sweat the mirepoix in oil, add lentils, tomatoes, water, salt and pepper, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer till it’s soup — under an hour.

Our master recipe — which we first wrote about pre-Covid, in a story back in January — explains how to incorporate all those vegetables crying for rescue from the fridge: everything from root vegetables (turnips, parsnips, celery root, beets) to Brassicaceae (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts and whatnot) to fresh legumes (string beans, peas and such) to leafy greens. The veg can be raw or cooked, so that small dish of roasted cauliflower with Punjabi spices left over from Friday dinner can find a new life in a lush (and zero waste!) soup, and the lonely cupful of sautéed greens from four days ago may gain delicious new purpose.

And you’ll want to spice it up: turmeric, coriander seed and cumin seeds are great places to start; ginger and garlic are your aromatic allies; fresh and dried chiles are always welcome; nigella seeds and flax seeds add nutritional heft; so do mushrooms, dried or fresh. Herbs — fresh and dried — are superb additions.

Again, our January story gives a lot of the health background and zero-waste benefits. Give it a read first if you’re interested in making the soup as powerfully healthful as possible. Otherwise, I invite you to explore the recipe.

And then take a deep dive into that crisper drawer and make soup!

MASTER RECIPE: Sunday Souper Soup

What to make this weekend: Baked kofta with eggplant and tomato from Sami Tamimi's 'Falastin'

Autumn is my favorite time of year to cook. The kitchen feels cozy (even if it’s still hot outside, as it is here in North Texas), and the ingredients speak to my soul.

It feels like the perfect time — while tomatoes are still happening — to make these baked kofta from Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley’s recent book, Falastin.

Each kofta is a meltingly tender, intensely flavorful package made by stacking ingredients: a slice of roasted eggplant; a kofta patty made from lamb, beef, onion, garlic, tomato, herbs and spices; a slice of tomato, some rustic tomato sauce.

The aroma as they roast is intoxicating.

Garnished with fresh herbs and toasted pine nuts, it’s a dish that’s at once homey and sophisticated, comfortingly familiar yet gorgeously spiced.

Served with rice, couscous, roasted potatoes or a root-vegetable purée, it makes a smashing fall dinner.

If by some miracle every kofta is not gobbled up, they reheat brilliantly.

RECIPE: ‘Falastin’ Baked Kofta

Inspired by Diana Henry, this ridiculously easy autumn fruit-and-almond cake is a show-stopper

This time of year, when late-season plums are offering one last chance, and black Mission figs beckon plumply, I love to throw them together with juicy blackberries and bake them onto an absurdly easy-to-make cake.

The Autumn Fruit and Almond Cake was inspired by a summer fruit and almond cake from the 2016 cookbook Simple: Effortless Food, Big Flavors by the British author Diana Henry.

Although it bakes for quite a long time (an hour and a half to an hour and 45 minutes), the actual work involved is minimal. For the fruit topping, slice figs in half, slice two plums, toss with berries and a little sugar. For the cake, dump all the ingredients in a food processor and blitz them. Pour and spread the batter in a parchment-lined springform pan. Arrange the fruit on top. Bake, cool, remove pan ring, sprinkle with powdered sugar.

Not overly sweet, it’s a spectacular treat for lovers of fruit desserts. Almonds in the form of marzipan adds a wonderful toothsome texture, and the almondy flavor marries beautifully with the figs and other fruit. Sour cream keeps it super-moist.

RECIPE: Autumn Fruit and Almond Cake

Tres leches cake is having a big moment. We love the super-luscious version from Mely Martínez's new cookbook

Pastel de tres leches, or tres leches cake — Mexico’s star dessert — is enjoying a drenchy-sweet moment of glory.

The fluffy-creamy vanilla sponge cake, soaked in a mixture of creams (usually condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream, and topped with whipped cream, has become an Instagram and Tik Tok star during the pandemic.

As G. Daniela Galarza wrote last week in an excellent story in The Washington Post:

“This past May, the month in which Trinity Sunday often falls, searches for “tres leches” were up 25 percent from May 2019. More than half a million posts are tagged #tresleches on Instagram, and on TikTok, nearly 25 million videos feature hands and pans whipping up batter for a tres leches cake.” 

Galarza’s story points to MM Pack’s illuminating 2004 story for the Austin Chronicle, “Got Milk?: On the trail of pastel de tres leches,” and then goes on to provide illuminating context and background.

The cake does not have a long history; it is probably only about a quarter-century old, according to Pack’s superb sleuthing. Nestlé, a major canned milk producer, introduced manufacturing plants around World War II in Mexico, and a recipe for pastel de tres leches was included. More investigation led Pack to find its antecedent: a dessert involving bread soaked in wine and layered with milk custard and fruit or nuts) came to Mexico in the 19th century.

All that is well and good, but The Great Confinement of 2020 continues to trigger cravings of comfort food and sweets. Fortunately, there are 9 and a half grillion versions to choose from.

The New York Times’ Melissa Clark, who may be some kind of dessert psychic — and who confesses to enjoying eating sweetened condensed milk straight out of the can — presciently published a recipe for a Seis Leches Cake (“A Milky Cake Where More is More”) in January.

We love the version Mely Martínez offers in her just-published cookbook The Mexican Home Kitchen, which we reviewed last month. Hers is not a sponge cake, but a somewhat denser vanilla cake with a lovely crumb; it takes longer (overnight) to soak up all those leches, but the result is outstanding.

About to attack my second slice of Martínez’s cake, on a whim I poured over it a splash of Plantation Pineapple Rum. Holy moly — it was insanely, wildly, wickedly good! Next time I’ll follow Martínez’s suggested variation and add a quarter cup of it to the milk mixture to soak in overnight.

RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Tres Leches Cake

Deviled Duck Legs Provençal: a rich, herbal, piquant and crunchy example of how recipes evolve

Recipe provenance is a hot topic among food writers at the moment, as efforts to avoid cultural appropriation and give creators their proper due is top-of-mind. In his “What to Cook” column last week, New York Times food editor Sam Sifton announced changes to the way that important publication will be acknowledging provenance in its recipes henceforth. 

We applaud the Times’ new focus on transparency. Here at Cooks Without Borders, we’ve always tried to be mindful of crediting creators whose recipes we’ve adapted. And now, as we are in the process of adding recipe cards to each of our recipes (yaaas!), we have been simultaneously taking stock of our own acknowledgement of provenance — fine-toothing our recipe archives to shine the spotlight a bit brighter on recipes’ originators. 

Sometimes it even results in a name-change for a dish, usually one we’ve adapted from a cookbook. Raw Zucchini Salad with Green Olives, Mint and Pecorino, for instance, is now A16’s Raw Zucchini Salad with Green Olives, Mint and Pecorino. Although we had previously acknowledged Nate Appleman and Shelly Lindgren and their 2008 cookbook, A16 Food + Wine, as the source of the recipe, we thought it would be even better to commemorate the provenance directly in the dish’s name. 

Still . . . the whole issue of who actually creates recipes is often much more complicated than who wrote them down and got them published in a book, or served them in a restaurant. The truth is that dishes generally evolve over time — getting tweaked, changed, added to, zhuzzhed and riffed on by cooks around the world, in the course of years and decades and centuries. Occasionally a brand-new dish springs fully realized from the head of a creator, but that’s the exception rather than the rule. 

Deviled Duck Leg Provençal served with saucy braised lentils

So, if we adapt a recipe for, say, moussaka from a cookbook author who learned that recipe from a home cook in Greece, how should we handle that? It’s not as simple as it might seem. Certainly we credit the cookbook author in the headnote, but probably not in the name of the recipe. It’s totally a judgement call, and we try to err on the side of too much credit rather than too little. That said, it’s the home cook back in Greece who gets the short end of the wooden spoon, which is not ideal. 

Now and then, we’re able to trace the evolution of a dish — at least somewhat — and I always find it uncommonly satisfying.

Deviled Duck Legs Provençal is a case in point. I was introduced to it by a Los Angeles Times story by Regina Schrambling back in 2003, shortly before I joined the staff of the Times. In the story, Schrambling explained that she found the basis for the dish — duck legs rubbed with Dijon mustard and coated with bread crumbs — in Madeleine Kamman’s book In Madeleine’s Kitchen. Shrambling’s own touches were adding herbes de Provence and swapping panko for regular bread crumbs. 

Now that that’s straight, consider the dish itself: slow-baked duck legs, rich and meaty, with a bright tang of Dijon, lovely herbal notes and the delightful crunch of panko. For something so easy to achieve, it’s pretty damn fabulous. 

Serve it on undressed spring mix, as Shrambling suggested lo those many years ago, or on arugula or frisée, and let the salad sop up the duck’s juices.

Or go the lentil route, and simmer up a saucy batch of French green lentils braised in red wine with mirepoix. We haven’t put together an actual recipe for those lentils yet, but they’re a snap to make. Cut a carrot, a stalk of celery and about an equal amount of onion or shallot into small dice, sweat those in a little olive oil with a branch or two of thyme, add French green lentils, coat them with the mirepoix mixture and let them cook a minute. Add some red wine to cover, bring to a boil, let the alcohol cook off, then lower the heat and simmer till the lentils are just tender, about 20 or 25 minutes depending on the lentils, stirring now and then. Add more wine as necessary to keep the lentils happy (you can also add water or chicken broth if you prefer). Keep it a little wet and saucy at the end: You’ll want that winey sauce.

Want to make it even more luxurious? Whisk in a little butter at the end.

Aw, go on — you deserve it.

RECIPE: Deviled Duck Legs Provençal

Cookbooks We Love: With ‘Amá,’ Josef Centeno takes us home to San Antonio, liberating Tex-Mex along the way

Amá: A Modern Tex-Mex Kitchen by Josef Centeno and Betty Hallock, Photographs by Ben Fuller, 2019, Chronicle Books, $29.95

Backgrounder: Just after his Japanese-and-Italian-inspired Los Angeles restaurant Orsa & Winston was named Restaurant of the Year by the Los Angeles Times in the summer of 2020, chef Josef Centeno had to close two other acclaimed restaurants, Bäco Mercat and Amacita, due to COVID-19. The San Antonio, Texas native — one of the most highly acclaimed chefs in the U.S. — continues to serve his modern Tex-Mex cooking at Bar Amá, from which this exuberant book gets its name. As forward-looking Tex-Mex is a rare thing indeed (most of what is served in Tex-Mex restaurants around the U.S., including in Texas, is hopelessly stuck in time), we were excited to discover and cook Centeno’s modern takes.

This is Centeno’s second book; his first, Bäco: Vivid Recipes from the Heart of Los Angeles, was published in 2017. Both were co-written with his partner Betty Hallock, a former deputy Food editor at the Los Angeles Times. (Full disclosure: Betty and I worked closely together when I was Food editor at the Times.)

Amá’s Broccolini Torrada with Aged Cheddar and Lime

Why we love it: The modern dishes, like Broccolini Torrada with Aged Cheddar and Lime, which has been on the menu at Bar Amá from the start (“and will always be on the menu”), are smartly delicious, bold and fabulous in flavor. And the soulful traditional dishes — such as Carne Guisada, eaten as breakfast tacos with Centeno’s Tía Carmen’s Flour Tortillas — are simply smashing. They are dishes we’ll come back to again and again.

Carne Guisada from ‘Amá: A Modern Tex-Mex Kitchen’

You’ve gotta try this: At Bar Amá, Centeno lightens his guacamole with an unusual ingredient — grated celery. Odd as it sounds, it’s wonderful (don’t tell the guacamole police!). Chopped red onion makes a snappy garnish.

Amá’s guacamole, garnished with chopped red onion, gets a lift from grated celery.

Tiny complaints: Closer editing would have been appreciated. The caraway seeds you toast for those albondigas never get incorporated; we had to guess what to do with the tepin or arbol chiles destined for the torrada and the serrano for the guac (we stemmed, seeded and chopped them).

Still wanna cook: Hoja Santa Vinaigrette (if we can get our hands on fresh hoja santa); Anchovy Butter-Roasted Red Onions; Charred Green Onion Crema; Migas; Mama Grande’s Chicken Soup (with brown rice, scallions and cilantro); Chile Shrimp Ceviche (with grapefruit and watercress); Lamb Birria; Puffed Tacos (if we can get our hands on fresh masa from nixtamal); Nachos Compuestas; Borracho Beans; La Piña (a cocktail made with mezcal, pineapple, cilantro and serrano chile).

RECIPE: Bar Amá’s Broccolini Torreada

RECIPE: Carne Guisada

RECIPE: Josef Centeno’s Tía Carmen’s Flour Tortillas

RECIPE: Amá’s Guacamole

Glorious and festive, Moroccan-ish couscous with chicken, lamb, chickpeas and veg exuberantly celebrates autumn

My version of Chicken and Lamb Couscous — one of my favorite things to eat in the fall (and into the winter) — is absolutely unpedigreed; I didn’t turn it up from a Moroccan cookbook; it wasn’t taught to me by a Tunisian friend.

Rather, way back when I was 20 or 21, a friend gave me a copy of one of the awesome Time-Life The Good Cook cookbooks — the one titled Pasta, which had just been published. Tucked between sections about rolling out fresh pasta dough, stuffing and cutting ravioli and layering lasagnas was one called “Couscous: A Full Meal from One Pot.” Couscous was included because couscous grains, made from semolina flour, are technically pasta. Pictured and explicated was the process of achieving a magnificent-looking platter of couscous topped with a saffron-and-cinnamon-scented stew of lamb, chicken, vegetables and chick peas.

I was instantly captivated. My only experience with such a dish at that point was feasting on it at two then-well-known Los Angeles restaurants, Dar Mahgreb and Moun of Tunis. The book showed how to dampen the grains, rake the moisture through with your fingers, steam them in a couscoussier (real or improvised), make the stew and serve it with harissa and a tureen of broth.

As anyone who has ever used the books in that (long out-of-print) Time-Life series knows, they are technique-based, with lots of step-by-step photos, and recipes only at the end. So literally for decades, I’ve made this couscous by following that rough guide, guessing at the amounts of ingredients, tweaking and changing things over the years, without looking at an actual recipe. I followed brief and sketchy instructions in a sidebar to make harissa.

When you think about it, it’s actually the way you learn to cook at home, if you have a parent who cooks teaching you: a little of this, some of that, until it looks like this. It’s why I treasure the series, a project that was overseen by Chief Series Consultant Richard Olney.

What I love about this chicken and lamb couscous is that you can make it as simple or as complicated as you like. Make your own harissa — soaking and grinding dried chiles and spices — or buy a tube (it’s really good). Go through the extraordinary process of moistening and rubbing and steaming couscous grains two or three times, or make a box of instant couscous in five minutes flat. Soak dried chickpeas overnight and simmer them for hours with the lamb and chicken, or add a couple cans of chickpeas toward the end.

You can buy harissa — the fiery North African chile sauce — in a tube, can or jar — or make your own.

And you know what? No matter how many shortcuts you take, the dish is always glorious — even if it isn’t faithful to any particular traditional recipe.

So why would anyone go through the trouble of making the couscous the longwinded traditional steamed way? Because it’s much lighter and flufflier. (More about that in a future story.)

Our recipe is a two-fer, offering the easiest possible version and a more elaborate one. Go either route — or choose the elements from each that appeal. Most often, I use dried chickpeas, but take the quickie route with the couscous grains, using instant. Every couple of years I make a batch of homemade harissa, which I use if I have it. (We’ll feature a recipe here soon!) Otherwise, I’m happy to use store-bought, a condiment I always like to have around. My preferred brand is one that comes in a tube, Dea from France; I also like one Trader Joe’s sells in a jar, from Tunisia.

The stew itself is made by simmering lamb and chicken pieces with onion, carrot, spices (including harissa), tomatoes and cilantro, then adding turnips, more carrots, zucchini and roasted red pepper. As mentioned, the chickpeas get simmered with the meats (if they’re dried) or added with the zucchini (if they’re canned). Optional roasted winter squash is added on top, along with grilled merguez sausages (also optional).

Stick with the amounts of vegetables or meats I suggest, or adjust them up or down, depending on what you have on hand. Do you prefer white meat chicken to the legs and thighs the recipe suggests? Swap ‘em. Want to toss in some yellow crookneck squash? Do it.

One moving target for me over the years has been winter squash. I’ve never been crazy about the boiled pumpkin The Time-Life book suggested. At some point I started roasting acorn squash, adding that at the end, but lately I’ve been using delicata squash — which I love because the flavor’s beautiful and the skin is very tender. Other times I do without.

To serve the dish, pass the platter of couscous piled with meats and vegetables around the table, along with a separate pitcher of extra broth, and a dish of harissa. Diners help themselves to the grains and stew, pouring on as much extra broth as they like. Pro tip: place a small dollop of harissa in your soup spoon, stir in some broth to liquify it, and sprinkle it over the stew.

Honestly, it’s pretty dreamy. The batch is gigantic, which is great if you’re feeding a big crowd. Use less meat and water, if it sounds too big for your crew. That said, it is just as delicious the next day. Or two. Or three. I enjoy the leftovers as much as round one.

Hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

RECIPE: Chicken and Lamb Couscous

What to make this first fall weekend: a big pot of shrimp, andouille sausage and okra gumbo

With okra at peak season where we live, in Texas, we’ve been cooking it all kinds of ways lately.

One of our favorites is gumbo. Making this one — featuring Gulf shrimp, smoked andouille sausage and okra — starts with a stock made from the shells of the shrimp that will later go into the gumbo (along with some dried shrimp you can pick up at an Asian supermarket or buy online).

A long-and-slow-cooked roux gives it depth and body, and we roast the okra before adding it near the end, to concentrate flavor and mitigate slipperiness.

The recipe is very forgiving, and much easier than you might think. Serve it with rice; white rice is traditional, but we also love it with brown rice. Filé (Native American sassafras powder) and Louisiana hot sauce on the table are a must!

RECIPE: Shrimp, andouille sausage and okra gumbo

Okra, now at peak season, may be the most meaningful and expressive vegetable for this singular American moment

Last September, Leah Penniman, a food sovereignty activist and author of Farming While Black, gave a talk at Harvard Divinity School on “African Diasporic Wisdom for Farming and Food Justice.” In it, she reportedly told the story of her great, great grandmother. About to be kidnapped from her home in West Africa, she made a “really audacious and courageous decision” to gather the seeds of okra and other crops and braid them into her hair.

“They knew that wherever they were going,” Penniman explained, “they believed there would be a future of tilling and reaping on the soil, and there would be some seed we all needed to inherit. That’s what our grandmothers did for us.”

In so many ways, okra is the vegetable for the moment.

A person’s reaction to it — and relationship to it — speaks volumes about their identity.

“Okra is the food of my ancestors, who were pulled from their homes in Africa,” writes Kayla Stewart in an essay recently published on Medium. “It was grown by those enslaved along the Carolinas, and devoured by them in Louisiana. Okra is a constant in my familial story — one that includes deep memories and gaping holes of history.”

Ask a white person about okra, and you’ll likely get something a good deal less deep — maybe “I like it, as long as it’s not slimy.”

Because it is so important in Black American cooking, and also shows up in cuisines from around the world, it’s hard to think of an ingredient that’s more ideally suited as a place for Americans of all cultures to meet — especially anyone who strives for deeper understanding of Black foodways.

“People tend either to love or hate okra, which originated in Africa and spread to Arabia, Europe, the Caribbean, Brazil, India, and the United States,” wrote chef Marcus Samuelsson in his 2007 cookbook Discovery of a Continent: Foods, Flavors, and Inspirations from Africa. “I happen to love it and think it adds great texture and color to meals, but I do remember being a little put off by its slimy texture the first time I had it. Once you get over that, it’s easy to like.”

With that, he offers a simple and delicious recipe for a quick Spicy Okra sauté, with tomatoes, red onions, chiles, garlic and peanuts.

Marcus Samuelsson’s Spicy Okra, from his 2007 cookbook ‘Discovery of a Continent: Foods, Flavors, and Inspirations from Africa’

As its peak season is late summer and early fall, it’s a great time of year to celebrate okra — which continues growing until the first frost. (In case you’re wondering, Texas is the top okra-producing state in the U.S., followed by Georgia, California and Florida.)

This time of year I love to char it on the stovetop grill, toss it in something spicy and serve it as a nibble with cocktails. You don’t really need a recipe for that — just cut each okra in half lengthways, toss them in a little olive oil and salt, and grill them, cut-side down first, till they’re a little charred. Add something spicy — maybe sambal oelek, the Indonesian chile paste, or lightly spicy Aleppo pepper — toss, and serve. Sumac would be great, too.

Okra dishes, of course, are found throughout Africa. “The mucilaginous pod is the continent’s culinary totem,” wrote Jessica B. Harris in her seminal 1998 book, The Africa Cookbook:Tastes of a Continent. “From the bamia of Egypt to the soupikandia of Senegal, passing by the various sauces gombos and more, this pod is used in virtual continent-wide totality. It is native to Africa, and its origins are trumpeted by its names in a number of languages throughout the world. The American okra comes from the twi of Ghana, while the French opt for gombo, which harks back to the Bantu languages of the southern segment of the continent.”

Shrimp gumbo with smoked andouille sausage and okra, served with rice

So yes — it also gives gumbo, Louisiana’s iconic dish — its name.

In Jubilee: Recipes from Two Centuries of African American Cooking, Toni Tipton-Martin points out that “Ochra” Gumbo was Recipe Number 44 in What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking, published in 1881 by Abby Fisher. “Her formula,” writes Tipton-Martin, “which involved boiling a beef shank to create a savory and alluring broth, survived through the ages, the recipe variously being called okra stew, okra soup and okra gumbo.” She reproduces Mrs. Fisher’s recipe, which is short and sweet:

“Get a beef shank, have it cracked and put to boil in one gallon of water. Boil to half a gallon, then strain and put back on fire. Cut ochra in small pieces and put in soup; don’t put in any ends of ochra. Season with salt and pepper while cooking. Stir it occasionally to keep it from burning. To be sent to the table with dry boiled rice.”

During the first part of okra’s long season, in early pandemic, I found okra, shrimp and andouille sausage at the supermarket all at the same time, and happened to have a package of dried shrimp in my larder, so I improvised a gumbo. It was deliciously soothing — both to make and to eat. I made it again, and again, tweaking until it was just where I wanted it.

Try our recipe as is, or tweak away: Gumbo is ideally suited to improvisation.

Many gumbos get their body from okra; others from roux or filé powder (Native American sassafras powder). This one gets its body from a roux cooked long and slow to a beautiful coffee-with-a-touch-of-milk color, and the okra — which I roast first, to pull out the stickiness — gets added at the end. I serve filé, along with Louisiana hot sauce, at the table.

And finally, one of our favorite ways to celebrate okra is pickling it. We usually find okra pickles a bit sweet for our taste, but a recipe in Sweet Home Cafe Cookbook, the 2018 volume featuring recipes from the restaurant at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C. is perfectly marvelous.

The okra pods stay crunchy and snappy, and the pickles — brined with turmeric, garlic, coriander and Thai chiles — are delightfully spicy and bright.

RECIPE: Marcus Samuelsson’s Spicy Okra

RECIPE: Charred Okra with a Little Spice

RECIPE: Shrimp, Andouille Sausage and Okra Gumbo

RECIPE: Sweet Home Café’s Spicy Pickled Okra

You're invited to a virtual book party to celebrate Mely Martínez's 'The Mexican Home Kitchen'

Mely Martínez with epazote she grew in her garden in Frisco, Texas. Her debut cookbook, ‘The Mexican Home Kitchen’ was published Sept. 15, 2020. | Photo by David Castañeda

We are excited to announce that Cooks Without Borders and The Dallas Morning News will be co-hosting a virtual book party to celebrate the publication of The Mexican Home Kitchen, Mely Martínez’s debut cookbook.

Mely is the blogger behind Mexico in My Kitchen; we reviewed her book last week.

The party will be Thursday, Sept. 24 from 5 to 6 p.m. Central Time, as part of The Dallas Morning News DMN Download series. Please join Mely, Dallas Morning News Food Editor Erin Booke and me to talk about Mexican cooking and Mely’s book. We’ll leave plenty of time for a Q&A, so be sure to bring your questions!

RSVP here for a link.

Just before the event, be sure to make Mely’s Fresh Salsa Rosa and mix her favorite cocktail, a Tequila Sunrise, so we can party in style together and raise a glass to the author. Oh, and there will be prizes! We’ll be giving away two copies of the cookbook signed by Mely, as well as a molcajete and a cazuela from Ancient Cookware.

This traditional molcajete will be one of the giveways, care of Ancient Cookware, during the virtual book party for Mely Martínez and her new cookbook, ‘The Mexican Home Kitchen.’

Hope you had a fantastic Mexican Independence Day, and we look forward to hanging with you on the 24th!

10 delicious ways to celebrate Mexican Independence Day (¡Viva México!)

September 16 — the day Mexicans celebrate their independence — is the perfect occasion to cook up one of your favorite Mexican dishes, or try something new. Here are 10 of our favorite Mexican recipes published over the years at Cooks Without Borders.

Mely Martinez’s Pozole Rojo

Because pozole is one of the most popular dishes for the holiday in Mexico, Mely Martínez’s Pozole Rojo from her just-published The Mexican Home Kitchen leads off our hit parade. (Read our recent review of the book.) You’ll need to start a few hours before you want to serve the pozole, but there’s not much work involved. With all its pretty garnishes — radishes and avocado and onions and such — it is super festive.

Taquería Carrots (Zanahorias Escabeches)

Of course, before you get down to serious eating, you’ll want a few nibbles. May we interest you in some tangy, spicy, zingy Taquería-style carrots?

They’re much quicker and easier to make than you might think. Be careful: They’re quite addictive.

Guacamole, My Way

Guacamole always gets a party started in style. We start by grinding onions, serrano chiles and cilantro together in a molcajete for serious depth of flavor. Don’t forget to buy chips!

Classic Margarita

How could you not? Raise a glass and toast the revolution. Make ‘em one at a time or mix up a batch.

Aguachile, Colima-Style

Chef Olivia Lopez (chef de cuisine at Billy Can Can in Dallas) shared her recipe for shrimp aguachile with us back in June. It quickly became one of our favorites.

Killer Carnitas

Carnitas — crispy-edged morsels of pork that can be pulled apart and wrapped in a corn tortilla with salsa verde (also great with guacamole) — are hard to beat.

Roasted Salsa Verde

Here’s your Roasted Salsa Verde. Besides being great in a hundred kinds of tacos, you can also use it to sauce albondigas, enchiladas and a host of other things.

Corn Tortillas

Once you start making your own handmade corn tortillas, it’s hard to go back to store-bought. You’ll want these for the carnitas.

Frijoles de Olla (Pinto Beans)

Have we ever mentioned how munch we love beans? Super easy to cook, frijoles de olla — pintos cooked in a pot — are one of life’s great simple pleasures.

The Mexican-Chocolate “Situation”

Somewhere between a flourless chocolate cake and a brownie, these toothsome chocolately bars are made with almond flour and flavored with brandy, ancho chiles, cinnamon and vanilla, in order to channel champurrado — Mexican hot chocolate. They happen to be gluten-free.

Looking for more Mexican recipes? There are lots more where these came from — our Mexican recipes section. Do check it!

Happy Independence Day! ¡Viva la Revolución!

RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Pozole Rojo

RECIPE: Taquería Carrots

RECIPE: Guacamole, My Way

RECIPE: Classic Margarita on the Rocks

RECIPE: Aguachile, Colima-Style

RECIPE: Killer Carnitas

RECIPE: Corn Tortillas

RECIPE: Roasted Salsa Verde

RECIPE: Frijoles de Olla

RECIPE: The Mexican-Chocolate Situation

With 'The Mexican Home Kitchen,' Mely Martínez is now everyone's abuelita

The more it goes, the more I cook, the more I’m interested in cookbooks that let you learn the basics of a cuisine by cooking dishes that real people cook at home. As inspiring as it is to pore over a tome by Enrique Olvera or René Redzepi or Pierre Gaignaire, there’s something about the very basic joy that comes from doing things the same way mamas and grandmas have done them for ages — whether those mamas are in China or Lebanon, Senegal or France, Italy or India or Uzbekistan.

And for me, since I have felt since I was about 10 years old that somewhere deep inside of me lives an old Mexican woman (seriously, I’ve always felt it as kind of a past-life thing), a book that speaks to how old Mexican women and young Mexican women cook every day at home is quite an exciting prospect.

I’ve learned to cook Mexican dishes mostly from books — starting with those from Diana Kennedy, the British expat who moved with her journalist husband to Puebla nearly 70 years ago and has been chronicling Mexican regional foodways ever since. But I’ve never had a Mexican mama or abuela to hold my hand. (Kennedy, as wonderful as her books are, is more the stern taskmaster than the hand-holder.)

Until now.

The Mexican Home Kitchen — the debut cookbook from the hugely popular food blogger Mely Martínez that has been 11 years in the making — is one of the titles I’ve been most looking forward to this very unusual fall publishing season.

Mely Martínez with epazote she grew in her backyard garden in Frisco, Texas | Photo by David Castañeda

I’ve been excited because I’m a fan of her blog, Mexico in My Kitchen, and of her Instagram posts, where she fluidly moves back and forth between English and Spanish to give background about a dish, showing us what she made for breakfast (black bean gorditas! red chilaquiles!); it’s all completely engaging and charming. No wonder she has 63K followers there.

Though I’m one of them, I had no idea until a couple weeks ago that she lives in Dallas (in Frisco, a northern suburb). We chatted at length on the phone, and she told me about her life, her cooking, how she came to write this book.

Born and raised in Tampico, a coastal city in the Gulf state of Tamaulipas, Martínez spent summers on her grandmother’s farm in Veracruz. There, she told me, “They cook what they have on hand. My uncles in the evening went out to hunt rabbits, and you knew the next day you’d have rabbit for lunch. If they went to fish in the river, we knew we’d have fish — and whatever my grandmother had planted in her garden.” Her grandmother’s big kitchen with its wood stove was where she loved being, and that’s where she learned to cook.

Eager to experience some of those flavors, I made her Pollo a la Veracruzana — Veracruz-style chicken.

Pollo a la Veracruzana from ‘The Mexican Home Kitchen’ by Mely Martínez.

It’s a simple dish — achieved by browning pieces of chicken (Martínez calls for thighs or breasts; I used both), then sautéing onions, garlic, carrots and potatoes. Add fresh tomato purée, herbs, sliced green pimento-stuffed olives, capers and raisins. Simmer the browned chicken in the sauce, and serve it with Arroz Blanco.

One bite, and I knew this would be a dish I’d make again and again. Never mind that we’re the same age; Martínez is now my very own abuela. This dish is easy, bright, deep, homey and soulful.

The idea of including raisins with the olives and capers together in a tomatoey sauce might sound odd, but the flavors meld beautifully, and the raisins add depth. I’d been unaware that raisins are used in Veracruzana dishes; that’s because on the coast, they’re not included; it’s more of an inland mountain style, as Edmund Tijerina explained in a 2011 Houston Chronicle story about Veracruz-style fish.

It’s not the kind of micro-background detail you find much of in The Mexican Home Kitchen, which keeps things more general (black beans are more common in Mexico’s Gulf states; flour tortillas are eaten more in the north) and on the way things are served and eaten.

Her main purpose in writing it was to share recipes from around Mexico with emigrants who missed the cooking — and their U.S.-born children, or non-Mexican spouses. “I realized there were no books written by Mexicans, or by Mexican-Americans,” she told me. She started writing “so people who are Mexican and have children who don’t speak Spanish can have the recipes in English.” She could be their surrogate kitchen-loving mama or abuela. Her own 25-year-old son, David Castañeda, did all the lovely photography. (And no, Martínez is not an actual abuela.)

As a young elementary school teacher, Martínez moved to the south, which gave her the opportunity to travel extensively in the Yucatán Peninsula, where she loved exploring the foods. Later, her husband’s work in human resources led them to live in states all over Mexico: Tamaulipas, Nuevo León, Veracruz, Puebla, Estado de México and Tabasco. Their regional cuisines are most strongly represented in the 550-ish recipes on her blog, and in the pages of her debut book.

And in the 85 recipes in the book. Dive in just about anywhere randomly, and delicious-looking-and-sounding things jump out that you’ll want to try posthaste.

Pozole Rojo could be a great place to start — especially if you’re reading this in time for Mexican Independence Day, September 16. Throughout Mexico, says Martínez, pozole is “one of the stars” of the holiday, for which people make a much bigger deal than they do for el Cinco de Mayo. (Flautas, tamales, tostadas, empanadas and buñuelos are also popular, she says.) The celebration starts around 11 p.m. on the 15th, as friends gather, eat and drink, and at midnight there are shouts of “¡Viva México!” and “¡Viva la Revolución!” and bells are rung.

Martínez’s recipe includes the traditional garnishes: shredded lettuce, sliced radishes, dried Mexican oregano, dried chiles, chopped onions, diced avocado and limes. Where I grew up, in Southern California, shredded cabbage was a familiar garnish. I always loved that, and asked Martínez about it. “That’s what they use in the northwest part of Mexico,” she said; in the rest of Mexico, lettuce is more prevalent.

If you’re after something sweet, try one of Martínez’s personal favorites: Pastel de Tres Leches (Tres Leches Cake).

It’s a denser version than most, not a sponge cake, and requires an overnight rest for the tres leches — condensed milk, evaporated milk and heavy cream or media crema — to soak in properly. The result, topped with vanilla whipped cream, is super luscious. Not realizing that in a footnote to her recipe, Martínez suggests a variation adding rum or brandy, I had a crazy idea and pour a tablespoon or two of pineapple rum on my slice. It was insanely good. (And it taught me the lesson that Martínez’s “notas” following many of the recipes can be extremely valuable and interesting.)

There’s still so much more I want to cook from this wonderful book. I enjoyed the Crema de Elote — a soup of fresh creamed corn that was even better served chilled the next day. And I still have my eye on Chiles Rellenos, Albondigas en Chipotle, Mole Poblano, Tamales de Salsa en Salsa Verde, Picadillo, fabulous-looking Tostadas de Pollo, and many others.

It’s an impressive debut cookbook — one that deserves a celebration. To that end, Cooks Without Borders and The Dallas Morning News will be co-hosting a virtual book party for Martínez on Thursday, Sept. 24, from 5 to 6 p.m. Central time. The party is free and you’re all invited to join. RSVP here for a link, and read more about the party here.

And here is a profile of Martínez I wrote for the Dallas Morning News.

Till then, help yourself to one or more of these delicious dishes, and treat yourself (or a friend) to a copy of the book.

RECIPE: Mely Martinez’s Pollo a la Veracruzano

RECIPE: Arroz Blanco

RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Pozole Rojo

RECIPE: Mely Martínez’s Tres Leches Cake

The Mexican Home Kitchen: Traditional Home-Style Recipes that Capture the Flavors and Memories of Mexico, by Mely Martínez. Photographs by David Castañeda. Rock Point, $28.

Top 10 cookbook dishes that blew me away during The Great Confinement (Part II)

Cooking — and losing myself in the pages of cookbooks that dive into cuisines from around the world — has been the closest I’ve come to traveling this year. Not only has that been a delicious consolation, but the incredible recipes I’ve found will be mine forever: to execute faithfully or to riff on endlessly, making them my own. It’s nearly as much fun reliving them in the retelling as it was to discover them the first time.

Part I of this story ran through five of my new-found faves — dishes that come from China, India, Palestine, France and Savannah, Georgia. The next five dishes criss-cross the globe, with stops in Japan, Vietnam, Mexico, the Levant and the globally expansive mind of chef José Andres.

Okonomiyaki from Sonoko Sakai’s ‘Japanese Home Cooking’

Sonoko Sakai’s wonderful Japanese Home Cooking: Simple Meals, Authentic Flavors showed us the way to turn out reliably fabulous okonomiyaki — the bespoke, bonito-flake-festooned savory pancake that’s got umami written all over it. We reviewed the book in June.

The crazy pancake begins life as a thin batter of flour, egg, milk, baking soda and salt, to which you add shredded cabbage, bell pepper and scallion. Into a hot, oiled skillet it goes. Let it brown a moment, add shrimp, flip it and finish cooking. Paint with tonkatsu sauce (the recipe supplies that too), shower with katsuobushi (bonito flakes), scatter with scallions and crumbled nori and serve.

Why we love cooking it: It’s eminently riffable; “okonomiyaki” means “as you like it.” Add bacon, swap the shrimp for crab or other seafood, add a squirt of Kewpie mayo. Watching the thick, luscious pancake cook to golden brown then flipping it is terrifically satisfying. The bonito flakes are so thin they seem to come alive on top, waving around from the heat of the pancake, so it’s a show-stopper at the table.

Carne Guisada and Homemade Flour Tortillas from Josef Centeno’s ‘Amá’

When the French person at the table declares, “This is even better than beef bourguignon” and the only other sounds in the room are groans of gustatory pleasure, you know you’ve got a keeper. We’ve got a review of chef Josef Centeno’s Amá: A Modern Tex-Mex Kitchen in the works (it’ll be published soon); this dish is a preview. If his Carne Guisada doesn’t exactly look modern, that’s because it’s not: It’s straight-ahead San Antonio soul food. Following Centeno’s lead, we wrap it in a home-made flour tortilla (recipe included), and proceed directly to heaven.

Why we love cooking it: It’s a classic braise, super easy to achieve, that slow-cooks for hours and fills the house with a gorgeous aroma. While it’s finishing, making flour tortillas by hand (including mixing the batter without a mixer) is primally satisfying, and easier than expected.

Rice Noodle Salad from Andrea Nguyen’s Vietnamese Food Every Day

Andrea Nguyen’s Rice Noodle Salad Bowl topped with grilled pork skewers

It was love at first nuoc-cham-drenched bite, and we’ve since made the Rice Noodle Salad Bowl from Andrea Nguyen’s Vietnamese Food Every Day four or five times. Partly that’s because it’s more than anything a “blueprint” dish (Nguyen’s description), a base designed to accept skewered grilled meat, chicken or shrimp, marinated grilled tofu, simple sautéed fish — whatever you like, whenever you’re craving that nuoc-cham tang and a pile of fresh herbs. A couple days ago, when we found ourselves with odds and ends of leftover sashimi and crabmeat from a roll-your-own sushi evening the previous night and a gorgeous bouquet of herbs our friends had grown, that all went on top of rice noodles, salad greens, shaved cucumber.

Why we love to cook it: Skewers or grilling aside, it’s really about assembling and arranging, so it’s a lovely chance to show off your food styling skills (which inevitably leads to an Instagram post or Snapchat peek). Dressing it with tangy, salty, chile-hot nuoc cham brings a giant flavor payoff.

Dancing Eggplant from José André’s ‘Vegetables Unleashed’

Eggplant topped with bonito flakes (katsuobushi) that seem to dance, from José Andrés’ Vegetables Unleashed

Katsuobushi (bonito flakes) strikes again — this time dancing on top of ingenious microwaved eggplant brushed with ginger-soy sauce. The effect is so delightful with a Japanese beer or glass of cold sake, it inspired us to turn a prearranged video chat with friends into Zoom Izakaya Hour. We included the recipe in an August review of Vegetables Unleashed by José Andrés.

Why we love cooking it: That sauce, which comes together in 5 minutes. We just want to paint it on everything.

Stuffed Zucchini with Pine Nut Salsa from ‘Ottolenghi Simple’

Seasonal zucchini disorder — that time of year when summer squash invades your immune system and produce bin — sent us looking for the most inspired zucchini recipes. Predictably, we fell into Yotam Ottolenghi’s clutches. Unpredictably, the captive eaters — who had already OD’d on zucchini — went mad for this. Anyone have a bumper crop? Try this.

Why we love cooking it: You get to crush the cherry tomatoes with your hands.

RECIPE: Stuffed Zucchini with Pine Nut Salsa

RECIPE: Dancing Eggplant

RECIPE: Rice Noodle Salad Bowls with XYZ Skewers

RECIPE: Carne Guisada

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