European

My initial exposure to French cuisine was during my first trip to Europe. It was long before I would eat in any three-star restaurants, and that exposure—the best I could have asked for—came from sitting in cafés. I was a wide-eyed twenty-three-year-old (and I was told by a waiter not to practice my high school French on him). I remember beautiful, colorful plates of vegetables going past me. I soon learned it was the classic French presentation of crudités, an assortment of three or four salads served together. It was fresh, affordable, and very appetizing, and it was served all over the city. Once in a while I’ll run this as a special in my restaurant; then I’ll forget about it until I crave it again. Any one of these salads can stand on its own, but if you put them all together they make for an extraordinary meal. Marinated Lentil Salad with Creamy Goat Cheese and Ripe Tomatoes (p. 113) would be a welcome addition to the mix.

I learned this recipe when I spent the summer in the kitchen of the Hotel Sofitel in Paris, some twenty-five years ago. Roland Durand, the chef, graciously accepted me as a stagiare, or apprentice, and I was able to work in all sections of the kitchen, including the butcher shop and bake shop. I love this cake for its texture, which is moist and rich-looking but very light, and for its versatility. It goes with so many different things, but it’s also delicious all by itself. I like to dress it up with a Pistachio Crème Anglaise and some raspberries or tart cherries.

This is a scrumptious home-style Greek dessert that you won’t find in many restaurants. Galaktaboureko, which might be easier to prepare than pronounce, is made by baking semolina custard in a crispy phyllo package and then drizzling it with sweet syrup. The syrup is traditionally made with sugar and water, but I couldn’t resist the urge to infuse it with a little lemon and cinnamon.

No, I don’t have an old Sicilian grandmother, but one of my best friends did, and this is her recipe. You will need 12 to 15 cannoli forms, metal tubes about 5 inches long, available at specialty cooking stores. Or do what I did some thirty years ago: buy 3/4-inch wooden dowels and have them cut into 5-inch lengths. If you use the wooden forms, season by frying them in the oil for a few minutes before using them.

This is a fluffy eggless rice pudding scented with sherry and almonds. My mom usually serves it with fresh raspberries, which is the perfect choice when they’re in season. But I like it all year round, so I like to make a sauce with dried cherries, which have a similar sweet-tart quality. It is lovely served in elegant stemmed glasses with the sauce spooned over the top. My mom still makes this pudding every year for my birthday. Thanks, Mom!

Buttery, golden crêpes, with just a sprinkle of sugar or a warm, luscious filling, are one of the simplest, most appealing, and most versatile of all desserts. They are easy to make ahead and freeze, and a snap to whip up at a moment’s notice—what’s not to love! In fact, my earliest cooking memory is making crêpes or “roll-up pancakes,” as we used to call them, for my little brother and me while watching Popeye cartoons early on Sunday mornings. My mom taught me how to do it so she could get a little extra sleep! We would roll them up with grape jelly on the inside and confectioners’ sugar (probably way too much) on the outside. Hmmm, wonder if our kids, Kelly and Evelyn, want to learn this recipe….

I never thought I liked lemon desserts. Then one summer, while visiting friends in the little French village of Hyères, I experienced the most sublime marriage of lemon and butter, in the form of a humble lemon tart. It came from a pastry shop called Le Pâtisserie des Artisans, and I was too shy to ask them for the recipe. So I vowed to myself that I would research every lemon tart recipe I could get my hands on until I found one that came close. Finally, I found this version in an old cookbook called (roughly translated) Secrets of the Best Restaurants of France. It is different from any other I’ve tried, and captures the sunny flavors I can still taste in my memory. I’ve since returned to Hyères and tried to find that pastry shop (I remember it was near the outdoor market), but I think it closed. Too bad—I would have liked to tell them about my epiphany.

If this recipe looks too daunting at first blush, you might consider making it in stages. The syrup for the praline mousse can be made two days in advance, and the cake can be made the day before the dessert is assembled. Or tackle just the cake the first time, and serve it with some strawberry jam and a little whipped cream on the side. Then imagine how good (and beautiful) the cake will be with the mousse on the inside. I prefer to assemble the roulade in the morning and give it all day to get moist and flavorful in the refrigerator. Some sliced ripe strawberries or peaches send it over the top.

This is my twist on classic Greek spanakopita, a spinach and phyllo pie. I add fennel and artichoke hearts. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t go mad for these crisp and savory little pastries.

Preparing fresh artichokes takes some effort, but it’s worth it because they are so delicious. In The French Laundry Cookbook Thomas Keller says that cleaning artichokes is one of his favorite things to do. I’m just the opposite. When I started out at Louis XVI, I had to clean two cases a day. My fingers were perpetually dried out and stained a nasty tobacco brown, and they didn’t want to come clean, no matter how much lemon I rubbed on them. I still clean the occasional case myself, and cuss under my breath the whole time. So, if you’re not put off by this introduction, read on to learn how to clean, cook, and stuff your way to happiness.

Years ago I drove through France with English friends on our way down to Provence. We were trying to decide where to stop for the night and couldn’t agree, so we kept passing by pretty country inns until finally it was dark, options were limited, and we were all tired and cranky. We agreed to stay at the very next place we came to that offered rooms, which turned out to be a rather dismal box of a building with very little charm. Just our luck! We went in and asked the woman who greeted us if we could possibly have a meal as well as a room. She told us to take a fifteen-minute walk, and then she would be ready. We stumbled around in the dark, hungry, weary, and not expecting much. When we returned to the house, we were greeted by a lovely platter of crudités, a country terrine with mustard and cornichons, sautéed river trout with lemon, and cauliflower that had been browned in butter. Needless to say, we were lucky after all! I’m sure there was dessert too, but the thing I dreamed about long after was the cauliflower. This preparation is still one of my favorite things to eat.

This dish requires a little effort ahead of time but finishes quick and easy, making it perfect for a casual weeknight dinner. It’s an adaptation of saltimbocca (Italian for “jump in your mouth”), traditionally made with thin slices of veal sautéed with prosciutto and sage. Since veal can be a little harder to find, and pricier, I use a less expensive cut of meat and splurge on an embellishment: a genuine Fontina Val d’Aosta, from the Piedmont region in Italy. This combination will literally jump in your mouth! I recommend serving it with tender asparagus.

Here’s another dish that works for the kids as well as my husband and me. I dish theirs up plain (with ketchup on the side) and then make a quick little pan sauce for us. At your grocery store, you can find the turkey tenderloin already cut into slices, but for a little less you can get them whole and slice them yourself—it’s easy! Pasta is the perfect companion for the crispy turkey, which makes us all happy.

This, to me, is the essence of French home cooking: a simple sauté and flavorful pan sauce made with vinegar, mustard, and tarragon (the quintessential French herb). If you can’t find fresh tarragon, you can use tarragon vinegar instead and finish the dish with chives, but it’s just better with fresh tarragon. For the best results be sure to use a flavorful Chicken Stock (p. 206). If yours tastes a little weak, start with two cups instead of one (as called for below) and let it reduce longer to concentrate the flavor.

This unexpected salmon preparation borrows flavors from Alsace. The usual partner for choucroute is a medley of pork meat sausages, but the oceany flavor of the best wild salmon works surprisingly well. The tart sauerkraut and spicy Gewürztraminer balance the richness of the fish. Juniper berries lend a distinct perfume. Needless to say, the perfect wine for this dish is the one that you used to make the sauce.

“Fumet” is the French term for an aromatic broth (typically fish or vegetable, though it can also refer to a meat stock) that is simmered down to concentrate the flavors. Making your own fish stock is easier than you think and adds irreplaceable flavor to recipes, such as Gulf Coast Bouillabaisse (p. 220) and Southern Shrimp Stew (p. 228). Whatever you don’t use can be frozen in small plastic containers (for up to 2 months), so you can pull it out for quick seafood pasta, risotto, or poaching liquid for a fresh fillet.

Adapted from The Royal Oak Restaurant and Pub. I fell in love with this creamy sauce when I first tasted it back in 1970 at the Royal Oak Pub in New Orleans, owned by Mr. and Mrs. John Newsham. They used to serve it with fried eggplant, and it is one of those texture and flavor combinations that I will never forget: the crisp eggplant nestled into the nutty, garlicky puree (as thick and luscious as butter-cream). Later, when I became a chef, the Newshams were big supporters of my career and even shared with me two of their family recipes, including this one, after Mr. Newsham passed away. I will always be grateful to them for the many food memories, and for their kindness.

The first apartment I rented in New Orleans was a summer sublet with a tiny balcony, just big enough for a hibachi grill. This sandwich, a beloved Greek specialty, was one I loved to make when I had friends over. We’d drink a bottle of chilled retsina and dream of being in a café looking up at the Acropolis. If you don’t feel like firing up a grill, these skewers can be cooked in a grill pan or under the broiler. You can also make skewers of diced chicken (breast or thigh meat). Just grill a few minutes less, so the leaner meat doesn’t dry out.

I remember a time when gazpacho became very trendy and was on every menu. I decided to come up with a different version—even with a different color. It was José Andrés of Jaleo in Washington, D.C., who made the best Spanish gazpacho I ever tasted, so I borrowed his technique of frying the bread in olive oil. The toasted flavor and richness of the fried bread helps mellow the acidity and round out the flavors of the other ingredients. The shellfish garnish is not necessary but makes the dish a little more elegant and sumptuous.