Cookbooks

Tarts are the desserts of my childhood. One of their appeals for me is that they can be filled with whatever you like. My good friend Magnus Hansson, a masterful baker, recently shared his foolproof shortbread recipe with me. It’s the base of my Honeyed Pear Clafouti Tart (page 212), but I fill it with everything from pastry cream to caramelized nuts.

In french, sablé means “sand,” and that’s the texture you’re aiming for here. Avoid overworking the dough to prevent it from becoming tough. I love its light, crisp, and crumbly texture in tarts and on its own.

I love this natural fruit-nut pairing and how the apricot juices run right into the frangipane filling.

I love clafouti, especially with ripe pears, but I always felt something was missing. To make a great French dessert even better, I added a buttery crust. That thin, crisp layer makes a world of difference. Tender pears soaked with caramelized honey do, too.

This recipe comes straight from my home in Alsace. My mom didn’t always have time to make fresh pastry cream, so she combined homemade strawberry jam, which we kept on hand, with fraises des bois. Those tiny, wild, sweet strawberries pair perfectly with the almond and vanilla sablé dough.

When I was an apprentice, I had to perfect a four-star version of this classic dessert. It was painfully involved and difficult. Over the years, I discovered that I much prefer a more rustic take. The fundamentals remain the same, and I still love the Tatin technique. The sound of the buttery caramel sizzling is music to my ears. Serve this with a little crème fraîche, and life is beautiful.

This is a dessert I serve all year round with whatever fruit is ripe. I always include orange segments though, as a reminder of the citrus in the sabayon sauce. You can make each serving of this dessert as small or large as you want, depending on how much fruit you use. In its simplicity, c’est bon!

As a rule, I season my greens in direct proportion to their degree of bitterness. To mellow the edge of mustard greens without overwhelming them with seasoning, I use this technique of cooking them in salty boiling water with butter melted into it. It infuses the greens with tons of flavor, but keeps their natural edge intact. If you love that hot, mustardy bite, be sure to add the mustard oil at the end.

To bring out the best in this snowy white root vegetable, I simmer it in honey and citrus. A little heat balances the luscious sweetness.

In this simple dessert, fresh fruit is the star. Lemon juice brings out the sweetness of summer cherries and berries. Any red berries work here—fresh red currants, black currants, and gooseberries are great options, too.

I came up with this technique of boiling a squash whole while watching a movie. I didn’t want to miss the good parts—and the kids didn’t want to pause it for me while I tended the stove. The squash ended up cooking beautifully, becoming juicy and tender with zero effort.

Hen of the woods, also known as maitake, are my favorite mushroom. They’re as meaty and rich as steak and they make a great side dish. You can also try this technique with oyster mushrooms in clusters or even shiitakes, both of which will cook more quickly. The seasonings couldn’t be simpler, but the unusual combination of sesame, parsley, and lime is utterly delicious.

My grandmother passed this recipe down to my mom and she then passed it on to me. It’s a casserole of pure comfort. First, bitter endive is simmered until sweet, then wrapped in savory ham and smothered with a creamy nutmeg béchamel. Gruyère tops it off before it’s baked until bubbly and golden.

Served under Soy-Syrup Roasted Duck (page 142), this super-tender cabbage perfectly balances the richness of the meat. But I love it so much, I eat it on its own, too. As always with fresh cabbage, I add the juniper berries at the end to lightly perfume the dish.

This unsung root vegetable deserves more attention. It’s sometimes called vegetable oyster or oyster plant because it actually has a hint of that sweet brine. To highlight that unique flavor, I cook these roots in lemon juice and toss them with a lemony beurre fondue.

Swiss chard isn’t exactly a bitter green, but it’s not candy either. To bring out its fresh, mild, spinach-like flavor, I braise it with earthy mushrooms and thyme.

Blanching the carrots before roasting them makes a huge difference. Not only are they more flavorful, they also become juicy and tender after roasting. Coating them with a fragrant spice paste and cooking them along with fresh citrus infuses them with an intoxicating blend of flavors.

I roast my potatoes with garlic and herbs, so why not do the same when boiling them? I discovered that the aromatics really infuse the potatoes when you start them together in cold water and then heat them to boiling.

Too often, summer squash ends up watery and soft. By cooking the squash on a rack, I release the water and give the squash an almost fluffy texture. The cheese creates a crisp, savory crust that makes this dish irresistible.

My version of corn “cake” is pure corn. There’s no flour, eggs, or any other binding element—the natural juices of the corn are starchy enough to hold everything together as a tender, custardy whole.