Nut Free

This pizza is one of my most popular dishes, a kind of warm spinach salad on a crust. I've been serving it since the earliest days at Sullivan Street (its origins—how I came to make it—are now lost in the mists of memory). But, even today, to the best of my knowledge, I'm the only one who offers it. Try it at home, and right after that first bite, you'll see why it's one of the most popular pies I've ever devised. When I make the Popeye in my home kitchen, I deviate from the usual system in this book and bake it (as called for here) rather than placing it under the broiler. The image of that mound of spinach directly under flame just seems wrong—I'm not even sure what would happen, but it wouldn't be good.

Quivering cranberry slices that melt into the meat and slowly caramelize give this brisket its lovely character. Even better, it takes so little effort for this sweet alchemy to work. Roberta Greenberg, the long-time assistant to the rabbis at this well-known New York City synagogue and the keeper of this recipe, suggests reducing the sauce on the stove after reheating it if you prefer it thicker. It is good enough to make you convert.

Basically, this is what you'd offer your future in-laws to ensure their undying affection. This is a taste-great, feel-good classic Jewish brisket, but while the recipe has been in the family for years, Joan is not averse to a new tweak or twist: Add a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, dry or packed in oil, for a more intense flavor. Or add a 2-inch knob of ginger and a few large strips of lemon zest to the pot—remove them before serving. Note: "Not Too Gedempte Fleysch" means "Not too well stewed." I didn't know either.

This is the go-to recipe for knowledgeable brisket lovers. Who then share it with others. Who share it with—perhaps—the Obamas and other notable families. So warm and welcoming, the secret is what Nach did way before anyone else: slice the meat midway through cooking. If you serve this the day after you make it, reheat, covered, for about 1 hour in a 325°F oven.

I've been doing the previous marinades forever. This new one is first cousin to a good barbecued tofu: piquant, sweet-hot-rich, and scintillatingly tasty. The tofu is baked in the marinade/sauce, which cooks down and coats it, caramelizing them. You'll probably have to soak the baking dish overnight before washing it, but it's worth it. Vary this using fruit juice concentrate instead of honey or sugar, and adding extra ginger, orange zest, or both. For an incendiary smokiness, add chipotle in adobo.

Mixing up a batch of anko is simplicity itself. This is slightly less sweet than most Japanese versions. Feel free to add more sugar if you like, though this is plenty for me. Although most Chinese sweet bean pastes are sieved for extreme smoothness and incorporate oil or lard for a richer mouthfeel, I prefer this method, which is lighter.

A lot of commercial red bean ice creams are just your basic, junky, mass-produced ice creams made with inferior ingredients like gums and thickeners, with a little of the red-bean paste called anko stirred in. Not so the following: a custard-based, from-scratch ice cream, enriched with enough anko so that you really get both its flavor and the extra creaminess contributed by its starch. The vanilla is optional; some feel it detracts from the red- beaniness, but I think it enhances it. If you want to go to town with this one, serve it in scoops sprinkled with a little matcha (brightly colored powdered green tea), and offer matcha-flavored meringues alongside; you can make them from the egg whites you'll have left over from the ice cream. Those who are allergic to dairy products can make this using canned full-fat unsweetened coconut milk: substitute 4 cups for the milk and cream.

In this recipe, a creamy parsnip purée stands in for a traditional béchamel.

This fairly classic recipe for Key lime pie comes from Pepe's Cafe in Key West, Florida, and is a favorite of lime pie aficionado and author David L. Sloan. The addition of whipped egg whites, says Sloan, makes for a filling that's fluffier than those in more traditional versions. For more on Sloan and the story behind Key lime pie, see Molly O'Neill's feature, "The Curious Case of Key Lime Pie."

This is the classic salad dressing, one I rely on all the time not only for salads but as a marinade for meats, to drizzle on crostini, and more.

I love these cheesy, salty, crispy wafers not only because they are so yummy, but because they are so versatile. I put them in bread baskets, add them to soups, and serve them topped with scoops of salad.

This is a robust dressing that is good with strongly flavored greens like escarole or spinach. It’s also very good on grilled foods and vegetables like potatoes, or as a dressing for chicken and pasta salad. Because the garlic thickens the dressing and gives it body, less oil is needed than for a conventional vinaigrette.

This simple recipe is not only great for bread-dipping, but can also be used to liven up the flavors in other dishes—as your cooking oil, or in salad dressing, or as a pasta topping, or just drizzled over grilled fish or meat.

This basic white sauce is what gives many pasta dishes, like lasagna, a rich creamy texture. It’s not hard to make and you’ll find lots of uses for it.

Every cook should have a good marinara sauce in his or her repertoire, and I think this one is just about perfect. Though not as quick to throw together as some of the other tomato sauces I depend on (see page 164 for a really quick, basic sugo), the time you invest in making it will be repaid with a full-flavored, robust sauce that can be used in dozens of different ways. The sauce freezes very well, so why not make a double batch to freeze (after cooling completely) in 2-cup portions? Frozen sauce may be stored for up to 3 months.

For a richer yet more delicate flavor, nothing beats freshly made pasta. It takes a bit of time—and a pasta-rolling machine—but the results are worth the effort. It is certainly possible to buy good-quality fresh pasta, either in sheets or cut into noodles. But like making your own bread, making fresh pasta is a very satisfying way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I especially enjoy preparing fresh pasta at the holidays or when I have family over and everyone can get involved.

When Todd and I are craving the flavors of Thanksgiving—or when we’re spending the holiday alone and I’m not in the mood to cook a whole turkey just for the two of us—I make these holiday-worthy ravioli. They look and taste festive, and there are never any leftovers!

Creamed corn has never been so sophisticated! This delicate, creamy filling deserves the equally subtle flavor of good, fresh pasta, so make this sometime when you are inspired to make your own pasta, or if you find a source for really fresh, homemade pasta sheets.