Cookbooks

Fresh fava beans have been a mainstay of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean diets for centuries, and lately they have been enjoying popularity in the United States. Bright green and firm-fleshed with a sweet and mildly nutty flavor, they resemble lima beans but are really more like an overgrown split pea. Fava beans are a bit time-consuming, as they require double peeling: first the outer pod, and then the hull that protects this little spring gem. Once you're done, you will have more debris than edible beans, but it's worth it, as this recipe will demonstrate. The gentle butter poaching method for the shrimp yields tender, succulent meat that contrasts beautifully with the spring fava bean.

Here, the building blocks of Scottish cranachan are brought together in a different guise, layered into an alternately crisp, creamy, and fruity cheesecake. It's not as rustically simple as the dessert that inspired it, but it does, I think, stay true to cranachan's ingredient-centric ethos, with honey, raspberries, whiskey, and oats in perfect balance.

Creamy coconut tapioca pudding with glazed pineapple is one of the desserts I obsessed over when I lived in New York City and worked for François Payard. All of the cooks at Payard Patisserie spent our free time talking about the places we dreamed of going and the dishes we couldn't wait to try. One of the cooks told me about how Claudia Fleming, at the time the pastry chef at Gramercy Tavern, had created a dreamy tapioca that could not be missed. He was right—on one of my last nights in NYC, I was finally able to try it, and thereafter every time I went to visit NYC, I made a point of going back to order it again. Sadly, it's no longer on the menu, but I've channeled it here in this version. It's light and refreshing and uses the natural sugars of mango, pineapple, and apple juice to complement the richness of the coconut milk.

This is a mostly hands-off dinner that only needs a salad of assertive greens as accompaniment. The chicken gets a head start in the oven, but then finishes up by sharing its pan with the couscous. This way, the pasta laps up flavor from the meat, while getting crispy on top, and in turn, the steam coming up from the couscous keeps the chicken incredibly juicy. An intense slurry of anchovies, garlic, and lemon makes up most of the piquant dressing, with bursts of contrasting sweetness from the raisins. You'll want a large baking pan that's not much deeper than 2 inches. Pyrex and ceramic have the potential to crack when the liquids are added during roasting, so it's best to avoid them this time. The baking dish I use is enameled metal and is 15 inches long, 11 1/2 inches wide, and with a depth of 1.5 inches, but a 13-inch paella pan would be fine. Keep in mind that if the pan is too deep, the sides of the chicken won't brown; if too small, there won't be a lovely crust on the couscous; if too large, the liquid will evaporate before everything is cooked. It's the Goldilocks of baked suppers, but when it's right, it's perfect.

Before I had children, I swore up and down that I'd never be one of those parents kowtowing to the little picky eaters' preferences at mealtimes. And then I had actual children. I'm no parenting expert, but my personal studies have shown that anytime you can legitimately make a meal out of a cookie and milk, you're golden. As it happens, grown-ups won't turn these down, either. And, bonus! When made with flax "eggs" and gluten-free oats, these wholesome gems are vegan and gluten-free.

This all-purpose dressing brightens whatever it touches, like Snap Pea Salad or Greek salad. It proves that three simple ingredients can become something extra-special when they're combined in just the right proportions.

I admit that I'm hard on sugar snap peas. I get disappointed when they suck, of course, but I also get grumpy when they're anything less than perfect—unblemished, super sweet, and not a bit starchy. That's the curse of keeping high standards, I suppose: you're so rarely satisfied. When at last I do find perfect snap peas, I make this salad. I leave them raw—only the finest snap peas can be this delightful without a dunk in boiling water—and accentuate their flavor with little more than a lemony dressing and mint. If you'd like, you could add some creamy goat cheese in blobs or good old burrata alongside.

These dream bars have made the rounds. My mother's friend Phyllis Grossman passed the recipe to my mother when I was growing up. My mother passed the recipe to me, and I have since passed it along to friends. We all make it. I have baked versions with milk chocolate and hot fudge, but the best filling by far is bittersweet chocolate. I melt the chocolate, spread it on a sheet pan and chill it, break it into shards, and press it into the dough. Then I spread a brown sugar meringue on top. I warn you—as I warn every new employee at Hot Chocolate—proceed with caution. You have to either never eat these or succumb to the fact that you will be addicted forever to Dream Bars.

All the flavors of guacamole meet up in this creamy soup, with yogurt adding body and refreshment. Serve with pita or tortilla chips. For lunch, add a salad of frisée, jicama, and oranges. For dinner, serve in small portions and follow with grilled ribs, grilled salmon, or just about anything grilled.

This moist, simple cake has a tender golden crumb and a subtle citrus flavor. I love a thin slice—okay, a thick slice—in the middle of the afternoon with coffee, but it's also well matched with summer berries and stone fruits. My husband enjoys it for breakfast. Accompany the cake and fruit with a dollop of the Yogurt Cream, if you like. In winter, pair the cake with a citrus compote or poached quince. This recipe is adapted from one given to me by Bill Corbett, executive pastry chef for the Absinthe Group in San Francisco, who uses yogurt frequently in his desserts. The cake stays moist for a week if stored in a lidded plastic cake container.

Shakshuka is Tunisian in origin but has become hugely popular in Jerusalem and all over Israel as substantial breakfast or lunch fare. Tunisian cuisine has a passionate love affair with eggs and this particular version of shakshuka is the seasonal variant for the summer and early autumn. Potatoes are used during the winter and eggplants in spring. Having published recipes for shakshuka once or twice before, we are well aware of the risk of repeating ourselves. Still, we are happy to add another version of this splendid dish, seeing how popular it is and how convenient it is to prepare. This time the focus is on tomato and spice. But we encourage you to play around with different ingredients and adjust the amount of heat to your taste. Serve with good white bread and nothing else.

This was the first main-course dish to be offered at The Silver Palate shop, and the distinctive colors and flavors of the prunes, olives, and capers have kept it a favorite for years. It's good hot or at room temperature. When prepared with small drumsticks and wings, it makes a delicious appetizer. The overnight marination is essential to the moistness of the finished product: The chicken keeps and even improves over several days of refrigeration; it travels well and makes excellent picnic fare.

Here's my basic no-knead, long-fermented rustic bread, a round loaf, or boule. It's an adaptation for the home kitchen of the much larger oval filone and the football-shaped pugliese sold at the Sullivan Street Bakery. I suggest you try this before any of the variations in Chapter Three, to get the hang of it. Even if you've baked before, the process is probably nothing like what your experience would lead you to expect. For one thing, many people who bake this bread find the dough to be unusually wet. Remember that most of the water is meant to be released as steam in the covered pot, and you'll be handling the dough very little anyway. Don't feel too uptight about any of this. For example, I specify that the dough should rise at room temperature, about 72 degrees Fahrenheit. (In many of the recipes, I say to put the dough in a warm, draft-free spot—same thing.) But if that's not what you have at the moment, you'll be okay anyway. Just pay attention to the visual cues: At the end of the first rise, the dough is properly fermented when it has developed a darkened appearance and bubbles, and long, thread-like strands cling to the bowl when it's moved. After the second, briefer, rise, the loaf has risen sufficiently if it holds the impression of your fingertip when you poke it lightly, making an indentation about 1/4 inch deep. It should hold that impression. If it springs back, let it rise for another 15 minutes.

As in the case with most famous dishes, there are more ways than one to arrive at a good boeuf bourguignon. Carefully done, and perfectly flavored, it is certainly one of the most delicious beef dishes concocted by man, and can well be the main course for a buffet dinner. Fortunately you can prepare it completely ahead, even a day in advance, and it gains in flavor when reheated. Boiled potatoes are traditionally served with this dish. Buttered noodles or steamed rice may be substituted. If you also wish a green vegetable, buttered peas would be your best choice. Serve with the beef fairly full-bodied, young red wine, such as Beaujolais, Côtes di Rhône, Bordeaux-St. Émilion, or Burgundy.

The Zuni roast chicken depends on three things, beginning with the small size of the bird. Don't substitute a jumbo roaster—it will be too lean and won't tolerate high heat, which is the second requirement of the method. Small chickens, 2-3/4 to 3-1/2 pounds, flourish at high heat, roasting quickly and evenly, and, with lots of skin per ounce of meat, they are virtually designed to stay succulent. Your store may not promote this size for roasting, but let them know you'd like it. I used to ask for a whole fryer, but since many people don't want to cut up their own chickens for frying (or anything else), those smaller birds rarely make it to the display case intact; most are sacrificed to the "parts" market. But it is no secret that a whole fryer makes a great roaster—it's the size of bird favored for popular spit-roasted chickens to-go. It ought to return to retail cases. The third requirement is salting the bird at least 24 hours in advance. This improves flavor, keeps it moist, and makes it tender. We don't bother trussing the chicken—I want as much skin as possible to blister and color. And we don't rub the chicken with extra fat, trusting its own skin to provide enough. But if the chicken is about method, the bread salad is more about recipe. Sort of a scrappy extramural stuffing, it is a warm mix of crispy, tender, and chewy chunks of bread, a little slivered garlic and scallion, a scatter of currants and pine nuts, and a handful of greens, all moistened with vinaigrette and chicken drippings.

Add lemon granola to your citrus cookies , and they become lemon-treehugger cookies. When you hear that a cookie has granola in it, somehow you feel like you're making a "healthier" choice, right? Use Meyer lemons, a fragrant lemon hybrid more common in California than Brooklyn, if you can get your hands on them.

That's a whole lotta citrus in this here recipe. If you want to make a citrus cookie that tastes like you climbed up a tree and plucked a cookie off the branch, that's what it takes.

Use a vegetable peeler to peel the zucchini lengthwise into thin ribbons, stopping when you get to the very center where it is all seeds. You can use this same technique with carrots and peel long carrot ribbons, or also choose to use half carrots and half zucchini. The zucchini (or carrots or both) sliced this way also make a light, fresh summer salad when tossed raw with lemon juice, olive oil, and fresh herbs.