Turnip

A longtime symbol of cuisine bourgeois—the simple, hearty home cooking of France (which is more valuable to most of us than haute cuisine, the four-star stuff)—this is an immensely satisfying dish and quite straightforward. Serve it over white rice or with crusty bread.

Essentially a simplified sauerkraut and a very light pickle. Use good-quality soy sauce and serve this as a side dish with Japanese or other Asian food. Do not try to make this in very hot weather; fifty or sixty degrees is ideal. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: any mixture of vegetables, as in the variation.

Galicia’s hearty bean and meat stew makes a terrific one-pot meal but is often served in cups as a starter. The rich flavors of the meat and beans are complemented by the sharp turnip and greens. In Galicia, the meat base is made from unto, a cured pork belly that I would tell you how to find if I knew. It’s not unlike pancetta but most like the fatty part of prosciutto, which would make a great substitute; salt pork or bacon is also fine—here I use a combination. There are as many ways to vary Caldo Gallego as there are to vary beef stew. For example, substitute chickpeas for the white beans; add chunks of pork shoulder, ribs, beef brisket, shin, chuck, or oxtail with the beans (increase the cooking time somewhat); replace the chorizo with other sausage; add peeled chunks of winter squash, pumpkin, apple, or pear; or substitute green beans or kale, collards, or chard for the cabbage.

Originally an Indian vegetable soup, this became popular among British colonialists, who added chicken to the mix. I like it better in something approaching its original form, but see the variations for more substantial versions.

Never miss the opportunity to make these when you have turnip greens left over from a previous meal.

For the best flavor, you must use at least three types of greens—turnip, collard, mustard, and spinach are all good. When you brown the flour, you should stir it about five minutes. (I always keep a batch in the fridge.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

A super-smooth, pale puree with a colorful garnish, this soup exudes both comfort and elegance. If you can, use the big, pure white onions that are abundant in the fall.

This tangy dish has an unexpectedly sweet, zesty flavor that is a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. I love serving this to company and seeing their surprise when they discover that they’ve been enjoying turnips and parsnips—vegetables with undeserved bad reputations. Personally, I prefer to leave the skins of the potatoes, parsnips, and turnips on and simply scrub them well and remove any eyes or bad spots. I try to use organic produce whenever possible, particularly when using whole fruit. Peeling is always optional in an infused one-pot meal, as vegetable skins add many vital nutrients. On the other hand, I prefer to eat chicken without the skin.