Turnip

The much-maligned mélange gets its name from the undeserved yet pervasive bad reps held by each of the three principal ingredients in this delectable side: turnips, Brussels sprouts, and chestnuts. But I guarantee you’ll find that baby turnips are sweet and juicy and bear no resemblance to the bitter root vegetable you think you know. Gently sautéing wedges of fresh Brussels sprouts renders them crisp-tender and nutty, while browning chestnuts in a cast-iron pan makes removing their skins a snap, giving you unfettered access to the earthiness inside. Pork jowls, as the name implies, are pig cheeks. When cured, jowls become guanciale; braised, they offer amazing versatility and can then be sautéed, grilled, or added to soups. Like pork belly, jowls have tons of flavor and are very rich. I find that braising helps tame them a bit and makes the cut a little less intense. You’ll probably need to special order this cut from your butcher, but it’s worth it. You’ll need to start this recipe one day ahead.

The two-step cooking process here yields perfectly moist and flavorful results: First, you put a nice sear on the chicken in a skillet. Next, you finish it off in the oven, slow-cooking it in a wonderful pot likker of seasonal vegetables and country ham. That’s it. Once you get the hang of this basic method, you can use it to make endless variations.

Sweet, sticky, and full of flavor, glazed carrots and turnips are the perfect complement to roast meat of any kind, although lamb comes to my mind first. This dish is also a good way to show off a favorite fancy honey, but even the plainest squeezie-bear type works well.

This is a fine breakfast after a late night out with friends, but it’s so good (and good for you) you could really eat it any time of day. The mix of potato, turnip, and red bell pepper along with the sweet taste of corn is a good-looking, great-tasting combination and an excellent way to get a bunch of veggies in at breakfast.

When you want a salty-sweet addition to your food, look to these bits of golden radish. The pickle is made using the packaged salted radish, commonly labeled salted or preserved turnip, sold at Chinese and Vietnamese markets (check the dried vegetable aisle). The plastic packages come in different sizes, and the radishes are packed in a variety of forms, from minced to whole. I prefer to start out with chunky thick strips the size of a finger and cut them myself. Don’t be put off by any musty smells emanating from the package. After the contents are rinsed, soaked in water, and seasoned, the off odor disappears and the crisp strips become a wonderful and rather delicate treat. In less than an hour, the radish is ready for eating or long-term storage. I snack on the strips straight from the jar, or serve them with rice or chopped up in bowls of Hanoi Special Rice Noodle Soup (page 217).

One of my goals with the cuisine at Bar Americain is to re-create the classics of French brasserie cuisine with the best of America’s ingredients. The other is to put my spin on those dishes that make up this country’s culinary heritage. This dish is a perfect example of the latter. Chicken pot pie . . . could it get any more authentically American than that? It’s warm, comforting, and, in this case, super flavorful and beautiful to boot. I opt for a flaky, golden-orange sweet potato biscuit crust that opens up to reveal a garlic- and onion-scented cream sauce studded with juicy chicken, tender vegetables, and flecks of parsley. We make this dish with smoked and roasted chicken at the restaurant, and I love the extra layer of flavor that cold-smoking adds. If you are up to it, follow the directions on page 249 and skip the chipotle in adobo puree or smoked paprika, which approximate that smokiness in the recipe.

The chicken is in the oven—heat forming a golden crust that seals in the juices, salt working its silent alchemy within, denaturing some of the proteins in tough muscles making those parts more tender and flavorful. Roasting is the easiest way to cook chicken and the tastiest. All that is required to reach perfection is time and the perfect salt. Sugpo Asin, a king among salts, glowing rose-cloud white, lush and firmly crunchy, with dulcet brine notes that play lavishly (but with discipline) against the sweet tamed gaminess of poultry, honors this basic meat and vegetable meal as all basic meals should be honored—asserting the preeminence of simple home cooking as the cornerstone of eating well.

As turnips do so well with orange, it is only a small step to use them with marmalade. Duck has this affinity too, so the three can come together successfully in a darkly sweet and rich casserole. Like duck à l’orange but sweeter and more suitable for a freezing winter’s day. The orange flavors here, from both fruit and bitter marmalade, should not dominate. The final flavor can be tweaked to your taste at the end with lemon juice or, better still, a bitter Seville orange. Rice, pure and white, would be my first choice of accompaniment. If you start this dish the day before, you will have a better chance of removing most of the fat that floats to the surface.

Whereas most meats give us a choice of cooking on the bone or not, wild rabbit is one that really needs its bones if it is not to be dry. It is not the meatiest of choices, so you need to be generous with quantities here. Rabbit bones are small, and it’s important to watch out for the tinier ones. The turnips in this provide all the carbs you need to soak up the sauce. It just needs some purple sprouting broccoli on the side.

Shiso, also known as “beefsteak plant,” is a pungent, wild-tasting herb native to North America but typically sold only in Japanese markets. Often served with sushi, shiso is essential here for bringing the flavor of the fish to life. Dry sake served cold rounds out this dish well.

Pretty much everyone has a neighbor or friend (kind of a June Cleaver type) who loves to cook and also somehow manages to be a CEO and raise three Rhodes scholars while spending three hours a day (minimum) in the kitchen. This is the recipe you give that person when she says, “Oh, I’d so like to make something for you.” This is a labor of love, and while not quite as physically intensive as, say, coal mining, it takes a bit of effort. But it’s worth it, because the recipe is big enough to be made in ramekins so it can serve as six little meals, and it stores well, too.

This soup is very warming, and more filling than more common, very brothy miso soups.

Bulgur is not often used in soups, but works very nicely, adding protein and a chewy texture.

The sweetness of baby carrots and a pretty, pale-orange color make this an uplifting dish for a chilly winter day.

This cheerfully colored soup brings you a hint of sweetness and the pleasant crunch of turnips. Once you’ve got the squash baked, the rest is a snap.

If it’s possible for squash to be considered a “fun” food, spaghetti squash certainly fits that description. Its noodlelike strands contrast nicely with the crisp turnips and snow peas in this stew.