Gluten Free

We Texans love our queso, and although I’ve seen many a fierce debate over the use of one of its signature ingredients—Velveeta—most of us grew up eating it. For us, queso spells comfort. I don’t use Velveeta for anything else, but there’s something about its ability to melt into a creamy smoothness that makes queso, queso. The dip shows up at so many Texas tables because, for many of us, queso means warmth, ease, and familiarity—just the recipe for an easy, congenial get-together with friends. (Pictured opposite, left side)

Those of us who grew up within spittin’ distance of Louisiana know that unsweetened iced tea is practically un-American. Furthermore, a family get-together in Texas just isn’t right without a big, fat, sweating pitcher of sweet iced tea. So here’s my latest, most favorite iced tea recipe, inspired (ironically) by a vendor at New York City’s biggest farmers’ market—the Union Square Greenmarket. I discovered it on a broiling August afternoon after buying a paper-cupful for one dollar. It was beyond refreshing, with a hint of mint, a kiss of citrus, and just the right touch of New England maple syrup. Naturally, I substitute Texas honey for my version. My mother always made iced tea the old-fashioned way, by boiling water, steeping the tea, and cooling it off with loads of ice. But my coauthor’s mother, Patricia Oresman, gave me a better idea. She used to make sun tea by leaving a pitcher full of water and tea bags in the sun for several hours. One day she put the tea bags in a pitcher full of water but never did get around to setting it out on her sunny backyard porch. She returned to the kitchen a few hours later to find perfectly brewed no-sun sun tea. Now she makes kitchen-counter iced tea year-round, no solar energy needed. How long does she let the tea bags steep? “I let it sit until it gets the color I think it should be,” she says.

Last year, my cousin Gloria showed up at our homecoming reunion with a huge pan of baked beans topped with a layer of walnuts. Walnuts? Walnuts are my least favorite nut, and I’ve never seen them paired with baked beans. But Gloria is a fine home cook, so I asked her where she got the idea. “I dreamed it last night,” she said. I tried her beans, and those crispy, toasted walnuts added a lovely crunch to an old standby. By adding walnuts to beans, Gloria has given a delicious new meaning that old maxim: “Live your dreams.” I can’t wait to see what she “dreams up” for next year’s homecoming.

Spoon bread is an old Southern favorite, and it’s beloved in many parts of Texas, too. I’ve heard numerous stories about the origin of its name—some say it is derived from a similar-sounding Indian precursor, others suggest it’s named for the utensil customarily used to eat this softer, smoother version of cornbread. I often bring spoon bread to potlucks, where it can be counted on to stir up old memories. (A version reportedly was served at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello.) This recipe came from Gangy—the favorite grandmother of one of my oldest and dearest friends, Kristen Ohmstede. Kristen’s grandmother served it often with butter and blackberry jam and to this day, that’s the only way Kristen will eat it.

When I’ve got a crowd to feed and a tight budget, I turn to rice salad. I love its versatility: Simply add meat or shellfish for a heartier dish, but omit them for vegetarians. Sometimes I divide the rice mixture into two serving bowls before adding meat or shellfish, reserving one for my non-meat eating friends. It’s hard to beat homemade mayonnaise, which tastes fresher and richer than the commercial stuff. I’ve included a recipe for the mayonnaise we use at Rather Sweet Bakery & Café.

Someone always complains if there’s no potato salad at our annual homecoming reunion in Long view. And while I never tire of getting together with my extended family, I do grow weary of eating the same old spud salad over and over. I decided a new version was in order and combined potatoes, buttermilk, sour cream, and blue cheese into a fresh-tasting, mayonnaise-free salad flavored with fresh tarragon.

I love the simplicity of individual salads in jars. Make the salad, toss it in an ice chest, and off you go. Once you arrive at your destination, the salad is ready to eat right out of the jar. Alternatively, you can skip the jars and toss the salad ingredients together in a large bowl.

Here’s a portable egg favorite for those who like eggs and bacon for lunch or dinner (who doesn’t?) that’s certain to disappear at any gathering. The recipe comes from my friend Penny Perry-Hughes, co-owner with husband, Jerry, of Der Kuchen Laden, a first-rate kitchen shop located just across Main Street from Rather Sweet. As a student at London’s Le Cordon Bleu years ago, she remembers promising to bring her family’s prized deviled eggs to a party thrown by a group of fellow Americans. “My mother almost died laughing that I called from London to get her deviled egg recipe,” she says. Worst part was, Penny prepared the deviled eggs in advance, but got sick just before the party and couldn’t go. The eggs went without her, never to be seen again.

This is the easiest, simplest recipe and it is guaranteed to draw raves from potato lovers everywhere. Okay, anything with a good dose of butter is bound to taste great. Point taken. But adding Cajun seasoning gives a plain-Jane dish a jolt of heat and energy. Finally, it all goes together in one pot, so even the post-party dishwasher (usually me) gets a break.

This dish got its “Big Easy” name from the New Orleans–inspired Cajun seasoning that defines its flavor, and also because it’s one of the biggest, easiest party dishes I know. The fish can be prepared and in the oven in less than 15 minutes, and it doesn’t take much longer to cook. Cleanup is a snap, too, as long as you line the baking pan with foil. (Once the fish is cooked, just toss out the foil and return the pan to the cabinet.) For a simple dinner party after a day at the beach, it can’t be beat. I serve whole flounder whenever I can find it because I’m smitten with the clean, light taste of this white fish, and for sentimental reasons, too. I spent many a summer on the Texas Gulf Coast, sunning, swimming, and fishing on the Bolivar Peninsula near Galveston. At night we’d step into our old tennis shoes, and armed with a flashlight and a spear, we’d wade into the Gulf up to our knees, shine the flashlight in the water, and when we spotted a bottom-dwelling flounder, we’d spear it. We tried really hard not to spear our own feet, and succeeded, though we did end up at the local ER a couple of times—never for a speared foot, though. This recipe pairs nicely with One-Pot Cajun New Potatoes, page 75.

My spicy, tangy catfish tacos are a great way to feed a hungry beach crowd without the hassle of frying or grilling. Load up a rimmed baking sheet with fish fillets, pour on the marinade, refrigerate overnight, and just before serving, bake for less than 30 minutes. Heat flour or corn tortillas in a tortilla warmer along with the fish, and set it all out on the table with a bowl of chipotle mayo and a platter of thin-sliced cabbage. Now everybody chow down! The fish is just the way I like it—juicy and flavorful thanks to long marination (at least 6 hours) and oven baking. I’ve allowed two tacos per person to ensure you’ll have enough even for man-size, sun-fueled appetites. (What is it about playing on the beach that makes men so hungry?) If you have a smaller crowd or guests with smaller stomachs, halve the recipe.

As a kid, I loved the crab claw cocktail at Don’s Seafood and Steakhouse in Beaumont, Texas. My take on this childhood favorite seems so right for a Gulf Coast party: It’s easy to make ahead, is light and refreshing, and highlights the glorious blue crab that inhabits the Gulf Coast. Finding fresh crab claws can be tough if you are not at the beach during crab season, but they’re available canned, and they taste almost as good as fresh. Make sure you are getting the meat with the little claw attached, so they can be plucked out of the marinade and eaten. Here in Texas they’re called crab meat fingers.

This cold soup is yet another use for the exploding basil in my garden. I created it for a backyard party that Country Living photographed for a summertime issue. There’s something special and a little bit elegant about starting an alfresco party meal with soup. Texas summers are so hot that I always like to offer something refreshing right off the bat. The gorgeous green color of this soup is set off beautifully by stark white serving bowls.

Josh Raymer, the creative young chef behind Fredericksburg’s Navajo Grill, enjoys a little low-key partying at home on his days off. He and his wife, Julie, often invite friends in for a relaxed evening with simple food, a few good wines or a cooler full of beer, and some good conversation. Josh describes Hill Country parties as generally laid-back—dressing up means stepping into your “nicer” boots. But even the most casual affair on his stone patio includes music—Willy Nelson and the Texas Tornados are favorites. Decoration often consists of little more than bunches of herbs clipped from his carefully tended herb garden and plunked in jars. “We don’t do much.” Josh and Julie came to my garden party with their two-year-old son Hank and this equally irresistible salad. Don’t let the semi-boneless instructions frighten you. You can order neatly packaged, semi-boned quail from just about any commercial outlet, including Josh’s Bandera, Texas, supplier, Diamond H Ranch (www.texasgourmetquail.com). Semi-boned quail means the back, breast, and thigh bones have been removed, leaving the bird’s skin and its tiny leg bones intact. This allows the birds to be laid out flat for easy grilling.

My friend Yvonne makes this salad for her summertime pool parties when we crave something cool and light, which is often. She tosses it in a big bowl, we throw something on the grill, and everyone heads for her backyard pool. Sometimes we float in the pool all afternoon, climbing out of the water only when we need a watermelon break. It’s a great way to beat the Texas heat. Using the scooped-out watermelons as serving bowls means this dish performs double duty: satisfying your guests’ appetites and adding an eye-catching decorative touch. It’s easier than you think and your friends will marvel at your artistic flair.

Every summer I have out-of-control basil growing in my garden, and it’s a serious challenge to come up with ways to use it all. It sometimes seems to grow faster than I can pick it. Then there is my garden arugula and several bountiful bushes of candy-sweet cherry tomatoes of varying colors. This salad guarantees that no cherry tomato or basil leaf goes to waste. For parties, I take a huge platter-size version of the salad, drizzle the pesto vinaigrette over the fresh mozzarella, and leave a small pitcher of the vinaigrette on the side for those who can never get enough of the deliciously pungent stuff.

My mother loved fresh peas and she’d routinely prowl local farmers’ markets to find them. Purple hull peas were her favorite, but she also had a thing for cream peas, black-eyed peas, or just about any fresh legume that showed up at the farmstand. She’d make us kids shell the peas, and I always suspected it was to keep us out of her hair. I didn’t mind, though. For some reason I enjoyed shelling peas. Naturally, I liked eating them better than shelling them and this recipe, which makes enough to feed a crowd, showcases peas and my mother’s other summer favorite, fresh corn. Just like my mother, I find fresh peas at Texas farmers’ markets and sometimes even at my regular grocery store. Any fresh southern pea (see Tip) will work, but I especially favor cream peas. Do not use green peas, which will not hold up. I use canned black-eyed peas if I can’t get my hands on fresh and the salad still shines.

Austin chef Jesse Griffiths and his wife, Tamara Mayfield, brought succulent lamb ribs to my Fredericksburg garden party, and everyone devoured them. Jesse cleverly ensures these ribs are partyfriendly for guests and hosts alike—the recipe can mostly be done in advance. The ribs are initially simmered on the stove top and then need just a very short turn on a grill before serving. Jesse and Tamara are co-founders of Austin’s Dai Due Supper Club; their dinners are movable feasts staged at various local farms, vineyards, hotels, and private homes featuring local, sustainably produced ingredients prepared onsite by Jesse. If you can’t find lamb, pork spareribs or beef shortribs will work equally well. If you use beef ribs, they’ll need to simmer for 4 to 5 hours. You can simmer the ribs up to 24 hours in advance, and the glaze will keep for 3 weeks in the refrigerator