Root Vegetable

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.

This silky puree is just one more way to enjoy fresh goat cheese, which is a favorite of mine. It can be served with toasted bread and sun-dried tomatoes for a quick hors d’oeuvre, or paired with a salad of fresh greens for an appealing first course. It’s also irresistible slathered on a turkey or grilled portobello sandwich. This puree is similar to the garlic goat cheese filling for my Eggplant Roulades (p. 303), but the addition of fresh basil, herbes de Provence, and chives gives it a style all its own.

While vacationing in Cape Cod recently, Chip and I took it upon ourselves to sample lobster rolls from one end of the Cape to the other. We loved the classic filling of seafood bound in rich mayo, but I immediately started thinking about how herbs and a hint of lemon would make the salad even better. Down here in New Orleans, we don’t have the luxury of leftover lobster very often, but we are lucky enough to have delicious boiled shrimp pretty much all year round. I also thought the spiffy salad deserved something more than the ubiquitous hot dog bun favored up north. A soft, rich bread like brioche is perfect. This is my spin on a venerable New England tradition.

What’s not to like about a roast beef sandwich? In true Danish tradition, this one is served open-faced, but it’s the added golden brown crispy-fried onions that make this sandwich unusually delicious (and require a knife and fork to eat). It’s been a favorite of mine since I was a kid, and I still love it when my mom makes her smorgasbord luncheon, because this sandwich is always on the menu.

The secret to this soup, a luscious puree of caramelized garlic and onions thickened with French bread, is patience. I originally developed it at Savoir Faire. At the time I had a boyfriend who frequently traveled to Mexico. He would rave about sopa de ajo—a broth flavored with garlic and egg—and it sounded so earthy and scrumptious that I decided to try to make it. My approach to recipe development typically involves looking up several versions of a dish, then taking what I like from each of those recipes. That’s exactly how this soup was created. I trained with French chefs, so a puree leapt to mind. Then I read that in Latin countries soups are often thickened with bread. One version relied on fish stock, but I thought chicken stock would be more universally appealing. So I stirred all my ideas together, my mentor Daniel gave it his enthusiastic blessing, and my first true culinary creation was born. When we initially started making this soup, my dishwashers had to peel 10 pounds of garlic at a time. Thankfully, these days at Bayona, we buy peeled garlic by the gallon. In order to develop the proper deep, rich flavor, it’s essential to take your time cooking the garlic. You need to stir the mixture a lot over low heat and wait until the onions and garlic get very dark and caramelized. I love garnishing this soup with tiny croutons that provide a crunchy contrast to the silky body.

All along the Gulf Coast, crab is plentiful and almost cheap during the summer. It has a luxurious flavor, but it’s still light, and in this ceviche-like salad the lime and basil enhance the warm-weather flavors. The salty capers are a good foil for the sweetness of the crab and carrots. Serve this refreshing combination on lettuce leaves, as described below, or in a parfait or martini glass, garnished with a wedge of lime and some tortilla chips.

I have always loved leeks, but now they have a particularly romantic context in my life. The first time I met my (then future) husband, Chip, he cooked chicken with leeks, a dish that knocked me out. (I guess I should mention that he worked as a professional chef in New Orleans for ten years.) He blanched the leeks, so they were bright green and pliable, then wrapped them around a stuffed chicken breast. It was the most beautiful, seductive presentation. Since then, every time I cook with leeks I think of that dish—and him. Leeks have an interesting, subtle flavor that suggests asparagus or salsify (a root vegetable). A lot of Americans don’t know how to use them, and they tend to be pricey. But this simple bistro presentation shows that they are worth the splurge. This is the most basic French preparation for leeks, and one of the most delicious. It’s also the recipe that sold me on them forever.

If you’re making this salad ahead of time, you’ll want to lightly salt the cucumbers, let them sit in a colander to drain for 10 minutes, drain, then pat dry with a paper towel. If you’re going to serve this salad right away, you can skip that step.

Just in case you’ve been wondering what to do with that walnut oil that someone gave you for Christmas …

When I was a kid, I used to think that beets tasted just like the dirt they were grown in. Happily, I am older, wiser, less fussy, and can appreciate the sweet earthiness of these beautiful vegetables—and I do find that dressings made with a little fruit vinegar bring out the sweet and temper the earthiness. A bright, tangy goat cheese is such a perfect match that it’s become ubiquitous on bistro menus.

This sumptuous appetizer stars oysters in an elegant and creamy guise. The oyster mixture spills over the sides of a thick triangle of toasted, buttered bread, and the whole thing is topped off with smoky bacon and snipped chives. The flavors of this dish are great with champagne and have a holiday feel, but it’s delicious anytime you can get great oysters. You could also toss the warm sauté with bow tie pasta for a decidedly rich Sunday supper.

Flan is essentially custard—the creamy melding of milk and eggs in what has proved to be a delectable revelation: you can make a savory flan out of virtually any vegetable. We do several savory flans at my restaurants, including mushroom and carrot, but its delicate flavor and pale green color makes asparagus flan my hands-down favorite. A potato salad made with smoked salmon (which is great on its own for lunch or brunch) is a stylish partner, but you can easily serve this flan with toasted slices of French bread and Grana Padano (or your favorite cheese) and a simple green salad with tomatoes.

For years, I would eat eggs only as an excuse to have bacon and hash browns. And then I made this discovery—the French method of slow cooking. The results of this technique are so good, I’d be perfectly happy to eat the eggs plain, without embellishment, but in this version I still get my potatoes and bacon. This dish requires patience: it’s tempting to turn the heat up and finish the eggs quickly, but if you do, they will lose the creamy, custardy consistency that elevates this dish beyond breakfast. Try these eggs as a first course before something simple and light, such as a vegetable or chicken sauté, or grilled fish or beef. You can also serve them for brunch, with fresh fruit or a green salad.

No self-respecting resident of Louisiana will need this recipe! Everyone in this state has his or her own method (complete with secret ingredients—I know one guy who uses Tang, the powdered orange drink) for boiling shrimp, crab, and crayfish. For outsiders, here’s a brief rundown of the basics. Start with the freshest, sweetest shrimp available. I love to add spicy sausage and potatoes to the pot, but by all means, omit or add what you like (even Tang). The peeling process may throw some people off, but that’s part of the fun. This recipe calls for 2 pounds of shrimp, so you can get a feel for it before you move up to the more common 20-pound party batch. If you can get your hands on some crabs or crayfish, you will need to go a bit stronger on the seasoning and the cooking time, as those hard shells need more spice and more time to absorb the other flavors.