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It’s not hard to imagine eating this dish at a table on the coast in Portofino, Italy. Warm spices, garlic, fresh thyme, and sunny citrus flavors create an irresistible marinade for sweet shrimp. I prefer to pour the marinated crustaceans right onto a baking sheet and roast them (a great no-fuss technique for dinner parties) until they’re just cooked. However, you could certainly sear the shrimp in a hot skillet as well. Crispy Risotto Cakes are the perfect starch to serve alongside the shrimp. Drag a forkful of the flavorful rice through the marinade and you’ll understand why this dish has been one of my entertaining staples for years. For an extra swath of color (and flavor), serve this dish with Butternut Squash Puree (p. 189).

I always envied folks who grew up in corn country and got to taste those gold and silver ears cooked fresh from the field, just exploding with sweetness. I had a friend whose mother used to say, “Go run and get the corn, and if you drop any on the way back, don’t stop to pick it up!” I love the urgency of it. So, when we get a case of really sweet corn at the restaurant, I like to use it two ways: I make this sweet Corn Cream, which goes beautifully with big, juicy sea scallops, and I serve it with the maque choux, so you also get the crisp crunch from the corn kernels in addition to the creamy sauce. If corn isn’t in season and you’re just dying to make this, use frozen sweet corn.

There is something particularly irresistible about food that’s wrapped up like a parcel in an edible casing—especially when there’s a little something inside that you’re not expecting. For me, the subtle, slightly briny flavor of grape leaves represents the best of the Mediterranean. In this dish, there’s an appealing exchange between the fish, grape leaves, and couscous that results in a moist, aromatic, and savory package enhanced by a tangy olive vinaigrette and roasted red pepper garnish. The feta cheese is a tasty addition and a pretty garnish, but it’s not necessary. When it comes to choosing fish, a thick, super-fresh fillet of mahi mahi, grouper, amberjack, or snapper would be ideal.

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.

One day while cooking a pot of red beans, I noticed that the juice had a beautiful, silky sheen. It occurred to me that the beans might make a good sauce if pureed really smoothly with their cooking liquid. An idea was born—really: that’s all it takes! I played around with seasonings and decided I liked the warm hint of cinnamon married with the spicy flavors of poblano and chipotle. Adding fresh lime juice at the end of the process brightens up the earthiness of the puree. The light coating of cornmeal gives the fish a nice crunch to contrast with the creamy sauce (which, incidentally, is wonderful with grilled fish of any kind—trout, redfish, or snapper are particularly good). A side of Green Rice (p. 309) is a perfect accompaniment.

This is one of the all-time most popular dishes we have ever created at Bayona. It was the brainchild of another former sous chef, Scott Freer. He had the original idea (duck and peanuts, who knew?), and we tweaked the various components until one day, after tasting the latest version, everyone just stood there silently, grinning in a Duck PBJ reverie. The cashew peanut butter can be made well in advance, as can the grilled onions. However, for super-crisp freshness, the Apple-Celery Salad is best when thrown together right before serving.

More often than not, lunchtime in New Orleans means lining up for a “po’boy” (our version of a hero sandwich), a bag of Zapp’s, and a cold Barq’s root beer. The best versions of the sandwich are made on light, crackly Leidenheimer loaves (made at the city’s most famous bakery) and piled with fried oysters and shrimp. But don’t overlook a spicy sausage filling, and while you’re at it, try my “special sauce.” If they can make “Dijonaise,” I can make “Creolaise.” Creole mustard is whole-grain mustard with a little horseradish added to it, and is it good! It’s made to go with sausage of any kind, but especially with hot, crusty andouille, right off the grill. Use the closest thing you can find to the light, crispy New Orleans-style French bread, add your favorite pickles, and chow down.

The first apartment I rented in New Orleans was a summer sublet with a tiny balcony, just big enough for a hibachi grill. This sandwich, a beloved Greek specialty, was one I loved to make when I had friends over. We’d drink a bottle of chilled retsina and dream of being in a café looking up at the Acropolis. If you don’t feel like firing up a grill, these skewers can be cooked in a grill pan or under the broiler. You can also make skewers of diced chicken (breast or thigh meat). Just grill a few minutes less, so the leaner meat doesn’t dry out.

While vacationing in Cape Cod recently, Chip and I took it upon ourselves to sample lobster rolls from one end of the Cape to the other. We loved the classic filling of seafood bound in rich mayo, but I immediately started thinking about how herbs and a hint of lemon would make the salad even better. Down here in New Orleans, we don’t have the luxury of leftover lobster very often, but we are lucky enough to have delicious boiled shrimp pretty much all year round. I also thought the spiffy salad deserved something more than the ubiquitous hot dog bun favored up north. A soft, rich bread like brioche is perfect. This is my spin on a venerable New England tradition.

What’s not to like about a roast beef sandwich? In true Danish tradition, this one is served open-faced, but it’s the added golden brown crispy-fried onions that make this sandwich unusually delicious (and require a knife and fork to eat). It’s been a favorite of mine since I was a kid, and I still love it when my mom makes her smorgasbord luncheon, because this sandwich is always on the menu.

For the spread on this sandwich, we mix the cream cheese with a full-flavored blue, but you could mix in Major Grey’s chutney instead for a tasty alternative. I like to roast a whole bone-in turkey breast and serve it one night for dinner, then use the rest for sandwiches or salad. However, any good-quality precooked sliced turkey breast will work. I would eat this with a bowl of Cream of Celery Soup (p. 141) for an easy, comforting weeknight dinner.

Crayfish and The New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival seem to go hand in hand. So when it was time to do my annual cooking demo at the Fest, I created this recipe, which is a play on the beloved French bar sandwich made with ham and cheese. I’ve always loved the crispy richness of batter-dipped sandwiches. This version, stuffed with a piquant crayfish salad, steals the show from diner varieties. The creamy crayfish sauce isn’t necessary, but it’s certainly delicious. If you feel guilty about the richness of this recipe, you can use light mayonnaise.

The fragrant, filling, dripping-with-oil muffuletta is New Orleans’s beloved version of a hero or hoagie. The sandwich originated at Central Grocery in 1906, and people still line up out the door to buy them there. In a traditional muffuletta, a sesame seed-speckled round loaf of crusty Italian bread is stuffed with slices of provolone, salami, mortadella, and a pungent olive salad (which ranks alongside hot sauce and beignet mix as the best souvenirs from the Quarter). A muffuletta is a cousin to one of the great street foods of Nice, the niçoise-salad-on-a-roll known as pan bagnat. The sandwich, which literally translates as “bathed bread,” is so named because the crusty bread is “bathed” in the rich oils from olives and tuna. With this preparation in mind, I created a tuna-driven version of the classic New Orleans sandwich. I think it’s a happy combination.

On its own, Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269) makes for an incredible meal. But these sandwiches, made from the leftover pork, are so delicious that you may end up roasting the shoulder just to make them. We served the sandwiches at Spice Inc. for two years. I originally learned this recipe from my partner Regina Keever, but the recipe has since been taken over by Jane Ruppel, our beloved office manager and resident party monster, who prepares it for virtually every Bayona get-together, by request. The meat can be used in countless ways and is simply irresistible. The pickled cabbage, spicy Creole mustard, and pickles cut the richness of the pork.

This fabulous, herbaceous gumbo used to be primarily a meatless Lenten dish, served on Good Friday. It is a pretty rare find on menus these days, but if you should come across it, give it a try. It is a thinner, soupier gumbo than most, and you’ll be surprised how much flavor the greens impart to the broth. When I made it the first time, I thought of how wonderful oysters would taste with the herbs, so I decided to top it off with a few fried ones. You could still serve it during Lent, but don’t reserve this delicious gumbo for once a year.

Although I was not born in New Orleans—we moved here when I was six—I most definitely consider it my hometown. Even post-hurricanes, I am eternally grateful to my dad for deciding to make this simmering, sumptuous, gumbo-of-a-city our permanent home when he retired from the navy. What a happy circumstance for a food lover like me! Speaking of gumbo, I could eat it every day of the week. And you can’t claim to be a cook in Louisiana without having your own version of its most famous dish. While I have to say that Donald Link, the chef at Herbsaint, makes the best gumbo I have ever eaten, I’ve learned to make a pretty mean version myself. Here is one of the most basic. Feel free to substitute an equal amount of roasted chicken for the duck.

The Crescent City Farmer’s Market has had a huge impact on the quality of cooking and eating in New Orleans, and on my own life as well. Over the years it has grown from one location where you could get only bell peppers and tomatoes, one day a week, to four bustling locations (open four days a week) where you can buy anything from Creole cream cheese to colorful varieties of eggplant and Swiss chard, lemongrass, Thai basil, soft-shell crabs, tamales, hibiscus flowers, sweet potato pies, and mayhaw jelly! Happily, post-Katrina, the farmers are back, and this vital part of the community is still up and running. My only complaint is that I can’t just run in and grab what I need in a hurry. When I go, I spend at least an hour perusing produce, catching up with farmers, and socializing with all the other shoppers and chefs I know. The market is a modern-day village green. Of course, this is also what I love about it. If you’re lucky enough to have a real farmer’s market in your area (they’re sprouting up everywhere), be sure to seek it out. It’s bound to have the makings for this soothing and delicious chicken and vegetable soup, among other satisfying meals. Feel free to substitute local seasonal vegetables for any of the ones listed here.

This rich and smoky salad has become, hands down, the most popular dish on the menu at Bayona. I think it’s owing to the combination of textures and flavors, and the way they all mingle together and complement one another. There are several components to this salad, and that’s why it’s so satisfying. The good news is that many of these steps can be done in advance. The trickiest technique is cold-smoking the quail, which infuses it with natural smoky flavor without cooking it. That means when we fry the batter-dipped bird at the last minute, the result is both crispy and juicy. At the restaurant we make a stock with the smoked quail wings and use it to enrich the dressing, but this is not necessary. If pears are not in season, apples make a good substitute.

This irresistible salad became a signature at Savoir Faire. I coat the oysters with bread crumbs flavored with sage, rosemary, and parsley—and strongly encourage you to use all three. The smell alone will have your mouth watering. Fried in this coating, the oysters take on a rich flavor that suggests stuffing. Placed atop a fresh spinach salad, the dish becomes a playful twist on Oysters Rockefeller (raw oysters on the half shell, topped with a spinach-bread crumb mixture and baked). The Rosemary-Dijon Dressing (which should be made first so the salad will come together easily at the end) is one you’ll make again and again—it’s delicious on just about any mix of greens.

This is another dish that Ashley taught me. It’s too good not to share. Cornmeal-coated oysters are crisp-fried and placed atop a salad of black-eyed peas, scallions, and red peppers. A chiffonade of spinach and celery root adds additional flavor and crunch (but it’s the killer sweet, hot Jalapeño Dressing that steals the show). Feel free to add a few more handfuls of greens to make this a more substantial salad. This is a great lunch salad with a fat wedge of corn bread and a cold beer.