Cookbooks

{like his mother made} Rösti or hash browns done well are potatoes perfected. I learned this from my husband's mother in Hungary, but you'll find similar versions that are the pride of many a mother and a young bride in homes all over Central Europe. In our home, few things raise bigger enthusiasm than the smell of rösti cooking when András walks through the door. You'll love them for brunch or dinner, or a whole meal {vegetarians take note} with a poached egg and chopped herbs. Add in rosemary and you've got a really heady, flavorful substitute for French fries with your steak dinner. They key to a crispy outside and soft inside not laden with oil is to get the oil very hot before you add the potatoes, in which case they will absorb very little of it and leave nothing but flavor and crunch for you to devour the instant it hits the plate.

{sauceless} When we found out our dear friends Katie and Parker got engaged, we packed up our pizza dough and big bag of greens from our garden and headed to their place for an impromptu celebration that's become a tradition in both our homes. Though the best pizza dough takes a little preparation {it gets more supple as it sits overnight}, a pizza topped with little more than fresh farmers' market finds can be thrown together on the fly like a grand game of Twister, with everyone's arms cutting, slicing, patting, and rolling in a tangle that is soon to become a very good dinner. Sip: Snappy and crisp Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand

Effort Level: II This is a wonderful recipe inspired by North African cuisine. It is a colorful, vegetarian dish with vibrant flavors.
-Wendy Grater

Effort Level: I This is a pretty common and easy trip dessert. You can use fresh or dried apples. Often people add rolled oats or granola to the topping, but in my opinion that can taste too much like breakfast. Without the oats and with lots of sugar it's a gooey and crunchy dessert.
-Mark Scriver

{flirt with flavor} Season after season, I continue to be captured by the multicolored array of carrots that can be found at the farmers' market in all shapes and sizes, and am always looking for new ways to make them shine. Coriander and carrots make music together as a complement for meaty halibut. Dip your toe into the exotic flavors of Indian spices like coriander and turmeric with this lively, colorful spring supper so pretty you'll want to bring out your finest platter and pour some wine for two. Sip: Torrontes, Sylvaner or Cabernet Franc

{sweet and toothsome} Roasting is a no-fuss way to put a lot of vegetables on the table. Roasting brings out the natural sweetness in fall root veggies and winter squash. Roast them in big batches to top Baked Risotto , and throw them into fall and winter salads.

"It's actually really good!" This phrase is heard over and over again in the shop. In fact, we've overheard it so much through the years, we've even caught ourselves saying it unwillingly. We kinda hate it, because it goes with the presumption that you've already discussed that "it"—whether it's an ice cream flavor or party or whatever—is not going to be good. The flavor that sparks the most customers to utter "It's actually really good!" is Candy Cap, a flavor made with…delicious little mushrooms. First some background: Porcini mushroom ice cream is one of the only flavor failures Jake will readily admit. It tasted OK, but it was just too earthy, and sadly, there was not a market for dirt ice cream. At least not yet. But right when we were ready to write off mushroom ice cream, we stumbled upon a wonderful species called candy cap mushrooms. A local mushroom vendor, Far West Fungi, approached us about doing a mushroom flavor. At first we were pretty skeptical, and at second, we were still skeptical. But when they finally coaxed us to visit their shop at the Ferry Building, they opened a jar of dried candy caps. They smelled like the best maple syrup ever. We were sold. We soon learned that nothing else on earth tastes like candy cap mushrooms. They carry the earthy taste associated with mushrooms, but unlike in the failed porcini experiment, candy caps deliver their own dimension of sweetness to the ice cream. Guests have said it tastes like waffles, pancakes, cinnamon buns, celery root, etc. Way more than just a novelty flavor, it's become one of our most popular flavors—it even got us on the television screen once or twice.

この味は驚くばかりである! We make White Miso ice cream in the summer with peaches, in the fall with apples, and in the winter with pears. Alice Waters would be so proud of us . . . you know, if she knew who we were. Doing a flavor with miso was a natural and logical extension of our love for savory elements in our ice creams. Miso is a thick traditional Japanese soy paste that's often used as a condiment or a flavor ingredient in cooking, and it's been growing in popularity as an ingredient in desserts. Since miso is so salty, this is one of the few recipes in the book that doesn't call for added salt or vinegar. In his search to get the flavors right, Jake went to a Japanese supermarket and bought pretty much every kind of miso in the joint: red miso, mixed miso, rice miso, purple miso, soy-only miso, miso-horny, and so on. He eventually settled on a white style. White miso is much more delicate than its counterparts. It's mellow. He still doesn't know what the label says, but boy, it sure gets the job done. White Miso is another "Wow" flavor, with distinct umami undertones that pair well with the seasonal tree fruits. It also goes secretly well with a scoop of Guinness Gingerbread, or simply a little splash of olive oil on top. Inspiration: Jake used to serve miso apple butter with crepes and olive oil ice cream.

At Humphry Slocombe, we serve hordes of loyal, beloved regulars each day. Some are more promiscuous than others, and try all our flavors, mixing it up each visit. Others are monogamous followers of specific flavors, like the one guy who comes in every day for a gallon of vanilla ice cream (for serious), or the devout woman who calls like clockwork to see if we have Rosemary's Baby. One particular young lady was a big fan of Salted Licorice, and arrived promptly every time we had it in stock. After several visits, she came in one day bearing a gift: a bag of black, salty licorice that she brought back from Sweden. When Sean didn't register who or what she was, she became very insulted, threw the candy at him, and stormed off. As soon as she left, Sean remembered her and felt terrible. Angry Licorice Girl, please come back. Sean is very sorry. Nearly everyone has a childhood reference to licorice. Salted Licorice reminds some guests of their travels to Eastern Europe and Scandinavia, where black licorice is ubiquitous. For other guests, Salted Licorice conjures up memories of chewy Red Vines in movie theaters. And it should, because we actually use Red Vines—the black ones, that is. Every once in a while, Sean stretches the truth by saying we use real licorice root. Technically, that's not incorrect…we just use real licorice root after it's been made into Red Vines. We're not afraid to be a little trashy. But not as trashy as Twizzlers. Those are gross.

With the neo-eco-bio-cool. We'll pick our own apricots, cut some rosemary from the garden, a little organic honey…

With different girls

With the little one's football team

After three glasses of wine and about six chocolate chip cookies, my friend Andrew had the idea that I should make a dessert that incorporates the flavors of his favorite sweet drink, Thai iced tea. Despite having had a sufficient amount of wine and cookies myself, it was clear to me what a brilliant idea it was, so the following weekend, we baked a cake.
The sweetened condensed milk in the cake creates a lightly caramelized crust and the Thai tea gives it a beautiful bright orange color. This cake stayed on my mind for days to follow.
Note: look for the Thai tea at Asian specialty grocery stores.

This creamy pesto is indulgent without being overly rich, thanks to heart-healthy avocado and just a touch of olive oil. Also, since it uses a fresh avocado for its creamy consistency, rather than pricey Parmesan cheese, it's less expensive to make than traditional pesto.
It happens to be vegan, but don't let that deter you (if you're the sort of person usually deterred by vegan recipes)—it's fabulous, particularly with fresh heirloom tomatoes. I also like it as a dip for vegetables or slathered over grilled fish or chicken. Use soon after making it though, as the fresh avocado will go brown if it sits for too long.

I made these one night at a friend's house. He was craving mashed potatoes to go along with the lamb chops I was making, and, having no potatoes to peel, boil, and mash, I went with carrots instead. The sweet, rich mixture that resulted benefitted gloriously from a touch of creamy, pungent gorgonzola, making the perfect bed for the oil-and-herb-marinated lamb chops.
Note: Have your butcher cut the lamb chops into individual "lollipops" for you.

I'll barbecue the hell out of a goat: get the whole animal on the grill or do up just the head or maybe the legs—whatever strikes my fancy. But the shoulder is probably my favorite cut to treat to hours and hours of gentle smoky caressing. This is party cooking, because (a) everyone will want some of this tender, spicy action and (b) though it takes a while to cook, you're only not sitting on your ass and drinking for, like, 10 minutes. The goat shoulder smokes for approximately seven hours. The smoking should be done in an indirect smoker (Texas-style chamber smoker). A temperature of 225°F to 250°F (a big variation, as smokers can be hard to control) should be maintained for 7 to 8 hours. The time variation is big, too, as there are so many smokers, and often backyard versions don't hold heat all that well. At a constant 250°F, it should not take longer than 7 hours, but an understanding of the variable types of equipment should be acknowledged. LISTEN
Idris Muhammad, Boogie to the Top—a fun, funky album. My favorite tune is "Bread" ("B-R-E-A-D, that's what I said!"). Dance with your goat! DRINK
Laphroaig, a couple rocks. Goat, chili, and smoky Scotch—there should be a song about this trio.

Three kindred spirits—pitmaster Robbie Richter, Jori, and I—came up with this profound merging of Southeast Asia and the American South. So profound that it could be both mascot and metaphor for Fatty 'Cue. LISTEN
Hours of southern soul while you drink southern beer and dream of southern girls—that is, if you don't have one of your own. DRINK
Lone Star. We're smoking brisket here, and that's Texas style.

Every Southeast asian country has some variation of green papaya or mango salad. Since it doesn't taste like much (nice texture, though), it's all about the supporting cast as far as delivering flavor goes. And in this version there's such a big cast that you can lose one or two items and the salad will still taste real good. You can even lose the papaya (shhhh) and make it with all the other goodies. Just don't lose the fish sauce, palm sugar, lime juice, or chili—deal? LISTEN
Mayafra Combo, "Iffilah Ha-Ha"—Sonnie Taylor from Trinidad backed up by some Italian musicians. Beautiful vocals and a moving jazz-funk vibe to keep you dancing and cooking. DRINK
A tall glass of water a little cooler than room temp. Seriously.

This is the basic pickle that I use for vegetables; it can be prepared ahead of time and kept in the refrigerator for up to a month. I like to keep it around for any last-minute pickling needs.

I see no reason why salads should be limited to greens. This one has a ton of different textures and flavors and is as visually rewarding as it is delicious. Vermont is famous for its fall color, so when I thought of this dish, I wanted all the components to come together on a platter in the same way that autumn leaves fall together in a collage of color on the forest floor. There are bits of roasted squash, blanched squash, pickled squash, and even toasted squash seeds. While I don't like dishes that are so fussy and manipulated they look less like food and more like art, I can't deny that we eat first with our eyes.