Cookbooks

Cans of chipotle peppers in adobo sauce are available in the Mexican food section of most grocery stores. You'll need to puree some for this recipe.

MAKING BREAKFAST SAUSAGE is an old family tradition for us. My grandpa's family used to raise their own hogs, and when it came time for butchering day, they made sure that nothing went to waste. All parts of the animal were used—for hams, bacon, lard, and sausage. My grandpa was in charge of making the breakfast sausage—a tradition he passed on to us. Breakfast sausage is a loose sausage that hasn't been cured, which makes it appropriate for a home cook. My grandpa's recipe was typically Texan in that it was seasoned with sage. While there is nothing finer than a basic breakfast sausage, I find it's an excellent base for other flavors, such as the smoky notes of bacon and smoked paprika and bittersweet tones of molasses. This isn't exactly my grandpa's breakfast sausage, but I'm sure he would have enjoyed it just fine.

WHEN I WAS YOUNG and growing up in Dallas, our favorite Mexican restaurant was a family-owned hole-in-the wall called Herrera's. It's now expanded to a much larger location, but in the 1970s it was in an old adobe building that had ten tables and to reach the dining room, you had to walk through the kitchen. Dallas went crazy for its soulful cooking, and the waits to get in were often long, but it was worth it. We all had our favorite things to order: for my dad, it was the enchiladas, I loved the tamales, and my mom always went for the crazy nachos. Now, it always surprised me that my mom would order nachos since she ate them at home almost every single day for her lunch. However, she explained that while hers were good, Herrera's Crazy Nachos were the best. In those days—before nachos became a sloppy stack of "chips and stuff"—nachos were a refined, simpler dish, with each individual tortilla chip topped with just cheese, beans, and jalapeños. So when Herrera's added taco meat, guacamole, and sour cream to their crazy nachos, it was considered quite daring and wild. That said, Herrera's crazy nachos were still elegant: each chip was a self-contained bite of all these fantastic flavors. I admit that the name may seem a bit dated to some, as there's really nothing crazy about these nachos at all. But no matter what you call them, they're a fully loaded treat that is great to enjoy when watching games or sitting around and visiting with family and friends. And, if you're like my mom, they make a fine meal, too.

Kosher Status: Pareve I first learned about using fruity, high-quality olive oil in desserts—specifically in chocolate mousse—from executive chef Laura Frankel of Wolfgang Puck Kosher Catering. Just love the flavor and smooth, creamy texture it imparts. Note that this mousse contains raw eggs. If you're concerned about the risks of eating raw eggs, you can use pasteurized eggs without affecting the results.

Kosher Status: Pareve I much prefer baking my gefilte fish as opposed to the traditional method of boiling. I just don't like how the words "boiled fish" sound, but that of course is neither here nor there. Boiled gefilte fish (blech, again!) can get really soggy and waterlogged, depending on how long you leave it in the pot and the level of your heat. I find baking always produces a firmer-textured, tastier gefilte.

Kosher Status: Poultry Cooking doesn't have to be difficult or complicated, and it doesn't need to use lots of ingredients to be perfect. The better cook you are, the quicker you learn that. Here's one recipe that proves it.

This soup is what Mayim makes when she thinks she has nothing left in the house. It's an "everything but the kitchen sink" soup and can be as simple or complicated as you like. The main point is once you start with sautéed onion and garlic, it's hard to go wrong.

IF YOU MEET A CZECH TEXAN, he or she will politely inform you it's incorrect to use the term sausage kolache when referring to a sausage-stuffed kolache. When you scrunch up your face with confusion, the person will then kindly explain that the correct term for this savory pastry is klobasnek. But wait, let's back up here for a minute. If you're not familiar with a kolache, then you may be wondering what the heck I'm talking about. Allow me to explain. A kolache is a sweetened yeast roll that's been stuffed with a fruit, cream cheese, or a poppy seed filling. The roll is either square or round, and there's a well in the center to contain the filling. With a klobasnek, the dough is wrapped entirely around the filling, and the only way you can tell what's inside is to take that first bite. You find these pastries all over Texas, though they were first introduced in Central Texan Czech communities, such as the small towns of West and Caldwell. While the origin of the term klobasnek for the sausage-stuffed version is a little vague, The Village Bakery in downtown West has claimed provenance for the term. What's interesting, however, is that these Czech pastries are more associated with Southeast Texas than with Central Texas. The two pastries are different things, but some people still insist on calling them sausage kolaches. This doesn't bother me, but I can see how it could upset some linguistic purists. No matter what you call them, however, they are good. I like to eat them for breakfast, warm from the oven when the cheese is still melted and the sausage juicy with a snap. Though they are still good a few hours later at room temperature and can easily be reheated, too.

An easy and fresh alternative to traditional green salads, this chilled North African-inspired dish combines potato, bell peppers, cucumbers, and olives with a light and tangy vinaigrette. Simple to prepare, it's great to double or triple for potlucks or group meals. Serve with the salad spread out on a large platter to let the colors and shapes of the ingredients shine. Make extra dressing to reinvigorate leftovers the next day. For a pretty variation, serve the salad garnished with sliced or diced cooked beets.

Brussels sprouts chips take a bit more work to prep than kale chips, but the result is crunchy and delicious and rivals potato chips any day of the week.

Kosher Status: Pareve Bark is one of the easiest things to make. Just ask any tree. Okay, the poet Joyce Kilmer may have written that only God can make a tree, but we mortals can make a pretty mean chocolate bark (I said that last part). All you need is a microwave and a fridge. And some chocolate. So, like once a year I get my nails done—my fantasies about having a weekly standing appointment are second only to my fantasies about living in a spa. Anyway, on the occasional days that I get there, they always have Food Network on. One day, I saw Ina Garten make a French chocolate bark, and I thought, How easy-peasy is that? I'm gonna try it. I think that show was at least four years ago, but I remembered it. I have a great memory for some things. My day to drive carpool, not so much; but a recipe idea I want to make stays with me forever.

Kosher Status: Pareve I created these spuds. Okay, that's an overstatement. God created the potatoes and Hasselback potato recipes probably go back to ancient Bolivia or something. I call them accordion potatoes because they remind me of that instrument that, by the way, is only played today at Bar/Bat Mitzvahs. They really should serve these potatoes at Bar Mitzvahs, too. It's such an elegant way to present a common potato. I make 'em with sliced garlic stuffed into each and every crevice, and then I top them with more garlic for the Transylvanians in the house (that's me). Those Yankees just get a little garlic sprinkle.

Editor's Note: Use this recipe to make Julien Merceron's Biarritz Rochers.

Editor's Note: Use this recipe to make Julien Merceron's Chocolate-Dipped Orange Peel .

Editor's Note: Use this stock to make Neven Maguire's Sweet Potato and Coconut Soup