Some salads are supporting actors; this salad is a star. It’s worth your attention and stomach space on a table full of other foods— yes, even (and especially) like Thanksgiving. I like to keep the farro, olive, and cheese treasures at the bottom of the serving bowl, with the leaves layered on the top for a fun surprise every time someone scoops.
This recipe is flexible, so don’t get flustered if you don’t have both endives and radicchio or Castelfranco. Just one type of leaf is fine! Don’t have Parm? Swap in feta or even blue cheese. If you want to skip the nuts, go for it, but I’d strongly advise you keep the olives in. And, you could even add in a sweet element, like a dried cranberry, golden raisin, or sliced pear, if that’s your kind of thing.
We’ve put this recipe here because, unlike the pot pies in the first chapter, this is a traditional pot pie with a bottom crust and a top crust, making it a double-crusted pie. This pot pie uses the carcass of the holiday bird to make a rich turkey stock. Making stock is a very flexible process, so use common sense rather than precise measurements. Of course it’s fine to use store-bought turkey stock, but homemade is so much better and takes less than 10 minutes of active time. It’s well worth the small effort, since the turkey is abundance itself and shouldn’t be wasted.
Gujaratis love a good handheld snack. Muddy buddies, or puppy chow, is the kind of snack you can grab a fistful of and throw into your mouth while on the move! Traditionally muddy buddies use peanut butter, but I substitute it with pistachio butter and add a healthy dose of cardamom to really make it sing. They are insanely addictive with their salty, sweet combo, making them the perfect party snack!
On the day a priest is ordained at Saint-Wandrille, committing to a life of poverty, obedience, and chastity, he is allowed to choose what the dinner menu will include that evening. Pork loin is a favored choice. It’s a good day for everyone since all of the priests and monks indulge collectively. A little more wine is served than usual that evening, and the meal often concludes with a glass or two of Calvados. This recipe is much easier to prepare than its nuanced flavors might suggest. Be sure to select a dark beer such as a stout or porter because it will result in an irresistible caramelized glaze that’s rounded out by the honey and tempered by the tanginess of the apples. Serve with your favorite comforting carb; at Saint-Wandrille, fluffy mashed parsnips or roasted celery root are the vegetables of choice.
This one-pan wonder is a creamy skillet of tiny grains of orzo pasta that cook up in a snap, making it a go-to for weeknights. The contrast of the zingy lemon with the earthy thyme-infused charred broccoli creates chef-level depth of flavor in minutes. For an extra touch, garnish with lemon wheels and serve it straight from the skillet at the table. (Then it’s front and center for grabbing seconds!)
My aunt Phoebe’s late husband, Uncle Samy, was a passionate cook who had a knack for turning the simplest ingredients into a meal. This five-ingredient chicken was one of his signature dishes that my cousins and I always looked forward to.
The key to perfecting this dish is to make sure the onions are cooked down and caramelized to a deep golden brown, while being careful not to burn them. Just watch and toss the onions around, managing the heat until they are ready.
Here I serve it over a big salad with blocks of feta, bread, and a bowl of Torshi (page 261). If Uncle Samy saw it this way, he’d teasingly say I ruined it with all the embellishments, and we’d have a big laugh. Every time I make this chicken, I think of him.
A Basque cheesecake is traditionally served crustless and with no berry adornments, but I promise you’re going to fall in love with this rebellious version. I layer it with a cookie crust; I really like the spice in the Speculoos (Biscoff-ish) cookie and bright berries, which just make the mahogany top and lusciously smooth texture sing. You’ll notice the ingredients— like the cream cheese— are cold rather than at room temperature, so it won’t overbake in the hot oven as the top browns.
If Ukrainians ever voted on their favorite breakfast dish, syrnyky—little pancakes made with farmer cheese—would be the clear winner. Pretty much every Ukrainian, regardless of his or her skill in the kitchen, knows how to make this dish. Here’s my favorite tried-and-true recipe (which, I am proud to say, has become the go-to recipe in many Ukrainian households!).
Syrnyky are traditionally served with sour cream or jam, but feel free to experiment with other toppings, such as maple syrup, peanut butter, and fresh fruit. You can even drizzle the pancakes with a little caramel sauce!
When you make syrnyky, your choice of farmer cheese is of great importance. It should not be too dry—if it is, the syrnyky will not hold their shape well—but neither should it be too watery. If there is a lot of whey left in the cheese, you should strain it through a sieve with cheesecloth and let the liquid drain.
In El Salvador and much of Central America, quesadilla refers to a sweet cheese pan dulce, where the cheese is incorporated into the batter. Many folks use Parmesan cheese (for its funk) and pancake batter. I have also heard of Salvis in the southern United States using a cornbread adaptation of the recipe. I have made quesadillas countless times, and I have used only Salvadoran cheeses because they were the first items that revealed to me how obsessed Salvi folks are with food. Why? Well, my relatives always bring back pounds of cheese from El Salvador—queso duro blando, queso duro viejo, and queso morolique. These aged cheeses must be excellent if it’s worth leaving your belongings back in the homeland to make room for cheese in the suitcase.
If you cannot source Salvadoran cheese, you may use Parmesan cheese; in place of crema Salvadoreña, crème fraîche. This pan dulce is usually served with hot coffee. My relatives who recently visited from El Salvador, where they can get all kinds of quesadilla at any hour of the day, loved this recipe so much that they requested it two days in a row.
When asked my favorite way to serve slicer tomatoes, I always reply, “with brown butter, black pepper, and salt.” There is something about the nuttiness of brown butter that takes peak-season tomatoes to a whole new level. Our favorite tomatoes to serve this way are classified as brown tomatoes, which tend to have a meatier, more robust, umami-forward taste than green, red, or orange types. A seed called Paul Robeson has been a favorite to plant since our first year, and when combined with a decadent drizzle of brown butter, it takes on a mystical, toasty flavor. To dress this dish up, apply nothing more than a few briny capers, delicate slivers of shaved sweet onion, a scattering of earthy chanterelle mushrooms, or petite leaves of fresh basil.