Vegetarian

This isn’t the kind of tomato soup that you eat with a grilled cheese sandwich, though it’s about as easy to make. Because I like to concentrate the flavor of those amazing tomatoes, I keep the garnish here simple. I find the focaccia croutons add just enough contrast and crunch without taking away from the glory of the tomatoes. Use any combination of heirlooms that you like—from Black Russians to Green Zebras—just make sure they are juicy and ripe.

When the late summer months bring you perfectly plump corn, buttery chanterelles, and Walla Walla onions so sweet you could eat them like apples, there isn’t much to do but stay out of their way. This light but flavorful soup showcases each of the ingredients without overwhelming their delicacy. Because the corn and chanterelles offer such nice, contrasting textures, I prefer not to purée this soup.

The success of this deceptively simple soup depends on the use of perfectly fresh English peas and careful, brief cooking to preserve their delicate flavor. The unctuous duck egg gilds the lily, highlighting the vibrant sweetness and color of the peas. If you wish to make the soup in advance of serving, chill it quickly in an ice bath after straining and blending in the cream. When ready to serve, reheat the soup while you poach the eggs.

This hearty soup showcases the very best of fall—sweet kabocha squash and earthy porcini mushrooms—simmered together in a rich Parmesan broth. Using the Parmesan broth as a base adds indescribable depth, and as they simmer, the mushrooms perfume the broth and become tender and silky. I add just enough cream to give the soup body while allowing the flavors to shine through. If you can’t find kabocha squash in your market, feel free to use other types of hard-skinned winter squash, such as butternut, or even sugar pumpkin.

I created this dish following a particularly inspirational visit to the farmers’ market, one of those visits where every vegetable looks like something holy and you want to take home every variety laid out in front of you. Think of this soup as more of a philosophy than a recipe. Use the very best, freshest, tiniest baby spring vegetables you can find, either following the guidelines here or substituting whatever looks best in the market, then accent their sweetness with just a hint of mint, lemon verbena, or cicely. If you do use favas in the recipe, be sure to follow the directions here for removing their skins; using the traditional blanching method will result in overcooked beans. The Cincinnati radish makes the soup a very pale, pretty pink that looks gorgeous served in shallow white bowls. Because this is such an easy soup to make, I also like to serve it in demitasse cups or small mugs as a walk-around first course for a relaxed spring get-together.

Instead of cutting your knuckles trying to grate Parmesan close to the rind, keep your scraps in a resealable bag in your fridge. Once you’ve saved up about a pound’s worth of odds and ends—which wouldn’t take too long in my house—use them to make this rich, perfumed broth. Mushroom trimmings or pancetta pieces would also make nice additions, but avoid any vegetables that are too strongly flavored or they will overwhelm the flavor of the cheese.

I don’t generally use chicken stock in soups. I prefer the cleaner flavor that water brings to the soup, especially with such a fantastic vegetable as the artichoke. Farro is a chewy Italian grain somewhat like spelt, but with a firmer texture. If you want to prepare the soup ahead of time, be sure to chill it immediately after cooking, transferring it to a shallow container so that it cools quickly. You’ll need to adjust the water levels when you reheat the soup because the farro will absorb some of the water as it sits. For a nice variation, you could add some fava beans or peas.

I’m not the biggest fan of puréed soups, but this is the exception: the simplicity captures the vegetable’s essence perfectly, and the texture is luscious and rich without even a bit of cream that might blunt the flavor. Take care to remove all of the green, fibrous leaves and bits when you prep the artichokes, and strain the soup through a fine-mesh sieve to ensure it’s pure velvet. I like to retain the simplicity by garnishing with nothing more than a drizzle of excellent olive oil to highlight the color and flavor.

Make this with homemade ricotta and you will be rewarded with a starter that is rich, pretty, and piquant. It is perfect for entertaining, because you can prepare the crostini, ricotta mixture, and salsa verde ahead of time and put the bruschetta together when your guests arrive.

Both winter and summer savory are related to the mint family, with a fairly strong flavor that rests somewhere between mint and thyme. Summer savory is a bit milder and makes a perfect partner to spring’s first morels in this tasty frittata. This would make a nice light lunch served with a side salad and a glass of Italian white with enough texture to stand up to the frittata (I had a glass of 2007 Marco Felluga Friulano Bianco when we tested the recipe). Make sure you use an 8-inch skillet for this recipe: if the frittata is too thin, you’ll end up with rubber; too thick, and you risk runny eggs.

These quick pickles make nice nibbles with drinks, and are great served with charcuterie. You can vary the vegetables according to what looks best in the market—just make sure they are fresh and attractive and that you cut them into roughly the same size so they become tender at the same time.

The only way to improve upon a fried artichoke is to shower it with fried-garlic breadcrumbs, making a hands-on dish a little bit messier and a lot tastier. This is a great little antipasto, excellent with a light white wine or served with cold beer for a ballgame snack that ranks more than a few steps above nachos. Eat the larger leaves just as you would if you had a bowl of melted butter sitting right there, scraping the leaves against your teeth. The tender stems and inner leaves can be eaten whole.

This cooking method only works with the very first favas of spring—the ones that are thin skinned enough to be eaten whole. Not only is this a light, crunchy, and addictive snack, but it’s also a nice way to enjoy fava beans without all the fuss. For dipping, mild green garlic makes for an aioli that doesn’t overwhelm the favas’ sweet flavor.

A staple of barbecue and “meat-and-three” joints everywhere, hot pepper vinegar is one of the most ubiquitous of all the Southern condiments. It’s doused liberally over greens, pulled pig, field peas, gumbo, beans and rice—you name it.

Any recipe for barbecue sauce is bound to be contentious, no matter the formula. That’s because there are as many versions of this master sauce as there are Southerners willing to defend them as definitive. Whether thick or runny, tomato-based or vinegar, all Southern barbecue sauces get their complex flavor by playing on the contrasts between spicy and sweet, tangy and smoky. I’m nonpartisan enough to appreciate them all, but of course I’m partial to the western Tennessee strains—one sharp and vinegary, the other sweet and tomato-thick—I grew up on. With tomato, vinegar, and a dash of mustard, this all-purpose hybrid version offers the best of all worlds.

Homemade fruit jam is one of life’s great pleasures, so thank goodness it’s also one of life’s easiest. Although many people think of the summer months as canning season, excellent fruit jam can be made any time of year. But, while doing so is always fun, it makes good economic sense only when you have access to large quantities of fruit at relatively low prices. Assuming you aren’t working from your own garden, you can save money and make it a fun family outing by visiting your local farmer’s market or picking your own fruit at one of the “pick-your-own” farms in your area. The prices can’t be beat, and you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing exactly where the fruit came from. Keep in mind that you may need to adjust the sugar depending on the sweetness of the fruit.