Shallot

Roasting lemons and shallots brings out their natural sugars and imparts a smoky flavor as well. Try variations, too, such as oranges and large cloves of garlic.

This recipe was inspired by the flavors and aromas of Provence. The combination of herbes de Provence, picholine olives, and rosé wine transports me there each time I make this dish! The honey and prunes add just the right amount of sweetness. The chicken is cooked on the bone for more flavor. This dish can also feature duck beautifully. Of course, it tastes even better when served with a glass of the same dry rosé.

Poaching refers to cooking in a liquid that’s heated to just below boiling. The shells are kept on the shrimp while cooking to keep them tender and to allow the shells to release their flavor into the poaching liquid. Cooking halibut, salmon, or shellfish this way produces a delicate texture.

Brussels sprouts are misunderstood. They are often served overcooked, mushy, with not a lot of flavor. When wood-fire roasted along with shallots, however, they become caramelized, subtly smoky, and sweet.

This is not your basic antipasti. Serving a beautiful platter of wood-roasted seasonal vegetables, cured meats, hand-crafted cheeses, home-cured olives, and smoke-kissed crusty bread to family and friends as a prelude to dinner is an artful way to honor guests. This is just what chef Chris Bianco does at his restaurant, Pizzeria Bianco, in Phoenix, Arizona. Chris’s wood-fired pizzas are now legendary, but his wood-roasted antipasti platter sings. I hope you will enjoy my version, and create many versions of your own.

This is a bare-bones recipe for the simple all-purpose vinaigrette, which you will vary as you wish; you’ll find suggestions at the end of this recipe. Its beauty lies solely in the quality of your ingredients. Note that you will so often see proportions of 1 part vinegar to 3 parts oil, but that can make a very acid, very vinegary vinaigrette. I use the proportions of a very dry martini, since you can always add more vinegar or lemon but you can’t take it out.

Braised meats are ideal for any large gathering because much of the work can be done the day before. In my opinion, braises actually taste better when the flavors have had time to meld and develop. And in the braising process, not only have you cooked the meat, you’ve also created a sauce. Osso buco is a classic braised dish of northern Italy, usually garnished with gremolata, a popular condiment made of minced lemon zest, parsley, and garlic. That’s fine in the winter, but in spring, I like to add two of my favorite spring ingredients: peas and pea shoots. It’s a brighter rendition of the traditional preparation. The risotto, perfumed with saffron, is the perfect starch for spooning up with the braising juices. I’m usually pro-cheese, but in the case of this risotto I find myself torn. Though the Parmesan gives the risotto richness, without it the dish is a little lighter and “more of the season.” You decide.

These leeks are also delicious cold, dressed with a mustard vinaigrette and served with sliced prosciutto and chopped egg.

It’s funny when some of your biggest enemies turn out years later to be your best friends. As a child, I dreaded nothing more than those mushy, boiled-todeath, off-color Brussels sprouts. But once I discovered fresh Brussels sprouts and learned how to cook them, I became a full-fledged devotée! Here, in my favorite preparation, they’re sautéed with pancetta, shallots, and garlic and then braised in the pan with balsamic vinegar and veal stock until they’re shiny and glazed.

In this indulgent salad, wild mushrooms are sautéed until tender and crisp, then tossed in a warm sherry vinaigrette with bitter greens and herbs. There are so many different herbs in this salad that each forkful tastes different, depending on which herb you bite into. Chervil contributes a mild anise nuance, while chives add a peppery, oniony note. Tarragon has a pungent licorice bite, and parsley a bright grassiness. Ribbons of pecorino and a sprinkling of toasted hazelnuts are the final layer of luxury in this delicious warm salad. All Italian sheep’s milk cheeses are called pecorino. They are usually named after their place of origin, as in Pecorino Romano or Pecorino Toscano. However, my favorite pecorino, Pecorino di Grotta, for this salad is from the Emilia-Romagna region. The story goes that the local housewives would hide a wheel or two of this aged cheese in the basement (grotta), storing it for later, when they would sneak out of the house and sell it for pocket money. Let’s hope that times have changed for the ladies in Emilia-Romagna!

This warm salad came about, like many of my dishes, as a way to show off one of my favorite ingredients—in this case, the lovely Kabocha squash. I roast the wedges of squash until they’re practically caramelized and then weave them into a salad of dandelion greens with a tart sherry vinaigrette. Tucked into the greens and squash you’ll find bacon lardons. Not to be confused with bacon bits, lardons are oversized rectangles of chewy, slightly crisped bacon, meaty and satisfying to bite into. Also hiding in the mix are salty toasted pecans and elegant shards of Roncal, an earthy sheep’s milk cheese from Spain.

This recipe is a way to show off the best summer fruit you can find. If possible, use an assortment of fruits, such as plums, peaches, figs, and berries, but make sure that all the fruit is up to snuff. Rather than striving for variety and ending up with less-than-ideal examples of each fruit, you’re better off with a simpler salad composed of only the most perfect nectarines or gorgeous peaches all alone. The dressing is made by pounding some of the fruit into a juicy vinaigrette. Figs are my favorite for this purpose. They mellow the vinegar and give the dressing body and chunkiness. If you’ve never had a Marcona almond, you may not forgive me for introducing you to them. Rich and dense, this Spanish almond variety is outrageously addictive. If you can’t find Marcona almonds, use toasted regular almonds or pecans.

This Irish condiment, sold in jars under the name Patum Peperium, was created in 1828 and is still made by only one company, from a secret blend of anchovy, butter, herbs, and spices. The story goes that the man who created it presumed that ladies’ taste buds were too delicate for this hearty anchovy spread. As my version demonstrates, I disagree.

Inspired by main-course salads found in the bistros of France, this dish comprises some of my favorite ingredients—beets, mustard, dandelion, and soft boiled egg. The salmon is covered in minced herbs, seasoned with fleur de sel, and then slow-roasted in a humid oven until it’s moist and custardlike at the center.