Cookbooks

The mention of Hue, a city in central Vietnam, brings up many conflicted memories for me. It was the site of the Battle of Hue, one of the longest and deadliest battles of the Tet Offensive, which began in January 1968, and of the Vietnam War. Although I was just a kid when the fighting took place, the stories that I heard about it during my childhood were frightening. Hue was the imperial capital of Vietnam for nearly a century and a half, until 1945, and many of the most sophisticated and interesting dishes in the Vietnamese repertoire originated in the region, including this classic spicy beef soup. The light stock, which is made with beef and pork bones, is scented with lots of lemongrass and shrimp paste. Any rice noodle can be used here, but the usual choice is the round rice noodle that resembles spaghetti. In Vietnam, the soup is often served with cubes of coagulated pig's blood, like the bowl pictured here.

Crispy fried shallots are an essential condiment in Vietnam. They turn up in soups and on salads, sprinkled onto dumplings as a garnish, and minced and added to meatballs. Crispy, sweet, and salty, they are indispensible. You may want to make double batches, as people have a hard time resisting the urge to snack on them. Strain the oil you used to fry the shallots and use it in other recipes or to fry more shallots. The strained oil, called shallot oil, will keep, refrigerated, for several weeks. The shallots should be used the same day they are fried.

Dried rice noodles are readily available, but homemade fresh noodles are a fun project. If you've ever made the light pastry dough known as pâte à choux (the base for gougères and profiteroles), the first step to making the noodle dough will be familiar. The flour and water are mixed together, then cooked on the stove top until thick (this step also cooks out the raw-flour taste). This is a two-person operation: once the paste thickens, one person will need to hold the pot down while the other stirs continuously. You will need a potato ricer for extruding the spaghetti-like noodles. The flavor of these noodles improves if you let the initial rice flour-water mixture ferment at room temperature for four days. While not essential to the success of the recipes, it does lend a nice tanginess to the finished noodles. However, if you are in a rush, you can let it soak overnight. The noodles can be used in Bún Bò Hue or as the base for noodle bowls.

This flavorful lemongrass marinade is pretty common in Vietnam, where it's used on thin pork chops that are quickly grilled over a hot fire. Because the marinade has a lot of sugar, grilling the meat is the only way to go. If you try to pan-fry the pork chops, the sugar will burn before the meat is cooked through. These chops are best grilled over a two-zone fire. Start the meat on the hot side of the grill, which will sear the meat and begin to caramelize the sugar in the marinade, then move them to the cooler side to cook them through. The combination of salty and sweet is pretty irresistible, and the hand-chopped lemongrass adds fragrance and texture. I like to serve the pork with bowls of rice or vermicelli noodles. Use the best pork you can get, and don't trim off all of the fat. It helps baste the chops as they cook.

Barbacoa de Cabrito This goat barbecue typifies a style where the meat absorbs an adobo, a fragrant, spicy marinade of dried chiles and other seasonings. I watched Zoyla Mendoza make this dish in her village, Teotitlán del Valle. Though she and her family can well afford to eat meat, they usually save it for special occasions, so they rejoiced when I asked them to teach me their favorite barbacoa. It was beautiful, breathing the scent of fresh avocado leaves and other herbs. The meat becomes unbelievably tender without drying out or getting mushy. When I came back to my New York kitchen, I set to work to find other methods close to the tender savor of a true pit barbecue. For the type that Zoyla showed me, I feel the best results come from packing the marinated meat in a tightly covered pan just large enough to hold the ingredients and baking it for a long time in a moderate oven. A turkey roaster is good. If you don't have a big enough pan with a tight-fitting lid, wrap several layers of aluminum foil very snugly around the pan to seal in the steam. I make the barbacoa as Zoyla made it, with young goat (kid). Goat is available in some Greek, halal Muslim, and West Indian butcher shops and can sometimes be ordered from other butchers. Ask the butcher to cut it into quarters. Oaxacans always include and specially value the head, which has some extra-tender nuggets of meat. (This is optional for the doubting.) If goat is not available, lamb is the best substitute. At my restaurant, we use lamb shoulder. The dish can also be made with a whole fresh ham or a pot-roasting cut of beef such as round, though you may have to reduce the amount of marinade slightly and experiment with a shorter cooking time. Of course true pre-Hispanic barbacoa was made with turkey—not used as frequently nowadays, but still a notably authentic choice. When the meat is cooked in an authentic pit it yields a lot of rich juices that never develop using the oven method. At my restaurant in New York we approximate this as follows: When the adobo (chile paste) is made, set aside 1 1/4 cup of the mixture and rub the meat with the rest. Cook as described below. When the meat is done, skim the fat from the pan juices and deglaze the roasting pan with 2 cups homemade chicken broth over medium-high heat, scraping up the browned bits. Stir in one 28- to 32-ounce can tomatoes, breaking them up with a spoon. Add the reserved adobo and simmer, stirring frequently, for about 30 minutes, or until reduced to about 4 cups. Let cool slightly and purée in a blender (working in batches as necessary) until smooth. Serve with the carved meat.

(Calabaza en Tacha) The Days of the Dead (November 1 and 2) are not only one of the most dramatic of Oaxacan fiestas but among the most family-centered. Altars dedicated to los difuntos ("departed ones") appear everywhere—outside churches, on shop premises, and especially at family grave sites and in the home, where everyone is preparing for the annual reunion with late friends and relatives. At this time every marketplace in Oaxaca blazes with piles—absolute mountains—of fuschia-red cockscombs and intense orange marigolds. Tall sugarcanes with long fronds and huge banana leaves tower like jungles nearby. The flowers will be used to adorn the altars and the giant fronds to mark arched entries for the souls of loved ones to pass through. People buy their late cousin's favorite kind of cigarettes or their departed father's usual beer to place on the home altar. The other offerings usually include fresh fruit, candies in all kinds of macabre memento mori shapes, decorated breads made from a sweet egg-enriched dough like that for Pan Resobado, and this traditional spiced preserved pumpkin. Every home altar holds a plate of Calabaza en Tacha—an offering that represents about four days' labor of love. The pumpkin—I use a regular Halloween pumpkin or sometimes the green West Indian type—is soaked first in a solution of the same cal (slaked lime) used to treat corn for tortillas. The alkali makes it firm enough to absorb the sugar without disintegrating. Oaxacan cooks like to make the preserve very sweet; I have slightly reduced the amount of sugar. It may not be traditional, but I like to serve it with vanilla ice cream. I find that using fresh sugarcane as a support on which to arrange the pieces of pumpkin is a handy and flavorful trick (though not an indispensable part of the recipe). Look for it at Latin American and other tropical groceries; it can also be found as a specialty produce item in some large supermarkets.

After we make a batch of this romesco sauce, we put it on things like eggs, grilled cheese, and turkey sandwiches. We find any excuse we can think of to dunk and cover stuff in the incredibly versatile and tasty romesco.

Our dad makes these every year on Hanukkah. And he makes a huge mess. He puts newspapers on the floor, uses every burner, and the whole house smells bad for a week. But they are super delicious and we had to include them in our book. We make them almost every weekend. We had our dad test the recipe.

Here is a recipe I adapted from the cooking of Kurt Gardner, a New York theater man of great culinary passions who has been contributing the dish to our home for years, usually in proportions large enough to feed boroughs. Rare is the month where there is not a frozen bag of this stuff in our freezer, ready to be deployed.

John Willoughby, once the executive editor of Gourmet and, with the chef Chris Schlesinger, one of the great interpreters of live-fire cooking in the United States, once said that there are only 11 recipes in the world, and those of us who labor in kitchens spend most of our time re-inventing them.
As an example, here is my adaptation of the recipe for cornbread Schlesinger served in his East Coast Grill from the time he opened the place in Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1985. The adaptation? I have added a few cups of frozen organic corn for texture. Those who wish to go further might add a fine dice of fiery chipotle peppers in sauce, or cook a few slices of bacon in the skillet before cooking the dish, and add the crumbled result to the batter. The fat left over in the pan would allow you to reduce the amount of butter you use by about 2 tablespoons.

Grilled meatballs, grilled bread, and a peppery arugula-walnut pesto make this sandwich one to remember.

Editor's note: This recipe is part of a special Thanksgiving menu created by chefs Allison Vines-Rushing and Slade Rushing of MiLa restaurant in New Orleans. This dish is a rice pilaf, where the rice is toasted in oil with onion before liquid is added to finish the cooking. The addition of chopped pecans adds an additional nuttiness to the toasted rice. Pilafs are usually made with a meat-based stock like chicken; if you want a vegetarian version, you can easily substitute vegetable stock or water. We like to serve this alongside our turkey at Thanksgiving.

Editor's note: This recipe is part of a special Thanksgiving menu created by chefs Allison Vines-Rushing and Slade Rushing of MiLa restaurant in New Orleans. Fried turkey is the answer to a Thankgiving under the gun. There is no need to wake up at the crack of dawn to put the turkey in the oven. Let that bird brine for 36 hours then pop it in a cauldron of hot fat (outside, of course). And you've got turkey on the table in under 2 hours. It's not just any turkey. It has juicy meat all over, even the breasts. Don't feel guilty about the frying, you probably only eat turkey once a year. Serve it with a healthy array of sides if that makes you feel better. You'll need to invest in an outdoor turkey frying kit.

Editor's note: This recipe is part of a special Thanksgiving menu created by chefs Allison Vines-Rushing and Slade Rushing of MiLa restaurant in New Orleans. Pecan pralines are one of the most celebrated candies of the South. They are made with pecans, sugar, and cream, which results in a unique crystallized and cloudy caramel that melts in your mouth. The European praline, however, is made simply with sugar and nuts, which results in a shiny hard-crack bitter-and-sweet candy. This Italian-style semifreddo (half frozen) uses the latter, which holds up well when frozen. However, we still use cream, but in a soft, fluffy base that cradles the crispy praline.

Rae: We wanted to come up with a version of this Purim pastry that was light and crumbly but not dry, and these really fit the bill. At Mile End we make the three classic kinds: apricot, poppy seed, and prune. If you want to make a mixed batch, just make all three fillings, using a third of the amount of each of the filling ingredients called for below. Mile End's baker, Rich Maggi, swears by his tortilla press for flattening the dough, though a rolling pin will also do the trick.

Rae: This is an old-timey High Holiday vegetable side dish, sweetened with honey and raisins or prunes and, sadly, often simmered to mushy blandness. To get past that problem, roast the carrots first, to brown them and coax out their natural sweetness, and then bring everything together on the stove top at the end. Sunflower seeds add a nutty note to the chewy prunes and raisins.

Noah: We're always looking for alternatives to pork at Mile End, and this dry-cured lamb breast was an amazing meat discovery for me. You can use lamb bacon in pretty much any dish you'd use standard bacon or pancetta for: Italian peasant soups, potato salads, meat braises, pasta dishes, whatever. We finish our lamb bacon in a smoker, though at home I've cooked it in the oven and gotten great results; it just has a milder flavor. You can store the bacon in the fridge for many weeks.

Rae: What I love about our updated version of this peasant soup is that it's based on an actual beet broth—not beef stock, as in a lot of Russian borschts, and not even vegetable stock to which beets have been added. This is a really beet-y, and surprisingly hearty, borscht. And it's completely vegetarian.

The pan-fried pizza move comes in handy during the summer when you don't want to turn the oven to 500°F.