“This is not considered a special-occasion cake, but everyone loves it. It’s an everyday cake to serve with tea.”—Nawida
Flavored with freshly ground cardamom and a little rose water, this cake is made with both all-purpose flour and corn flour (which is milled more finely than cornmeal). It has an ideal ratio of cake, topping, and just a little crunch, which you get from the coarse yellow semolina flour, or sooji in Hindi, that’s dusted on the bottom of the pan before you add the batter. The result is both familiar and exciting—it’s like the best and most interesting corn muffin ever. It’s also the perfect complement to any kind of tea. Nawida usually tops one side of the cake with mild white poppy seeds and nigella seeds, which have just a touch of bitterness, and the other side with black raisins and large pieces of walnut. You can choose just one topping, but both together on one plate make this very easy dessert so much more appealing—and this approach allows everyone to try both. Ideally this should be baked in a rectangular metal pan about 9 by 13 inches (23 by 33 cm) so that you can easily cut the cake into diamond shapes. I use a square metal brownie pan, so the pieces come out a little thicker, but in a pinch you could also use two round cake pans or even muffin tins. Nawida sometimes uses muffin tins shaped like hearts and stars so that it’s easy and fun for her kids to take a piece of cake to school. Just pay attention as it bakes, as the bake time will vary slightly with a different shape of pan. As with the firni on page 299, though you can buy cardamom pre-ground, for this dish I strongly recommend you grind it yourself. It doesn’t take very long!
My Moroccan friend Mehdi first introduced me to chermoula as a marinade for seafood, but I love it on chicken too. It wraps the meat with the soft distinct flavor of cooked cilantro and the gentle warmth of sweet paprika. This is a great picnicky recipe to double up for a summertime crowd, since chicken thighs (or hindquarters) are very forgiving for the busy home cook. I like to use my wood-burning pizza oven outdoors, but an indoor oven works just fine.
We like to make up big batches of this homey chowder when the local sweet corn is at its peak. Do not toss out those corn cobs; they make a fabulous stock that gives this soup its wonderful corn-y flavor.
It will be completely un-shocking that my visit to Japan was more cake-centric, less fish-focused. I ate the flooffiest pumpkin doughnuts, elegant apple shortbread cookie sandwiches, silky coffee caramel flan and cheesecake. At the tiny pastry shop Equal Pastryshop, I ate a strawberry shortcake whose perfection made me want to hang up my apron, because if such baking beauty already exists in this world, then my efforts are futile.
The Japanese shortcake is their refined version of the American shortcake and is layers of dairy-rich sponge, cream and strawberries. Eating it feels like hugging a puppy, the first day of t-shirt weather in spring and knowing you are loved all at once.
These Japanese burgers, known as hamba¯gu in Japanese, are such a comforting, nostalgic meal for me. My mother would make them with a red wine and ketchup sauce that was especially delicious, as it soaked into the short-grain rice. Because my kitchen has no ventilation—it’s awkwardly placed in the middle of the apartment, the farthest point from all the windows—I particularly appreciate making patties in the oven on a sheet pan. I can make a big quantity (ten!) without setting off the fire alarm. The ketchup sauce is the best part and gets made right on the hot sheet pan as you scrape up bits and pieces and mix everything together. If you’re not in the mood for cabbage, you can also serve the burgers and rice with a different vegetable, such as blanched broccoli, our Simplest Arugula Salad (page 274), or even some sliced cucumbers sprinkled with a little salt and vinegar.
In our home, this is the crème de la crème of breads—a quintessential part of any mountain table. We serve it alongside about any meal, with cabbage, chili, pot roast, my Chicken and Dumplings, and more. You need a cast-iron skillet to make proper cornbread. Although my grandmother was a cornbread purist, every so often I like to break tradition. One of my favorite cornbread variations is to slice a large onion and lay the rings flat in the skillet before pouring in the batter. What you have is a sort of onion upside-down cornbread that pairs grandly with soup or beans. Another option that goes great with chili is to add a cup of whole kernel corn before baking.
This is a remake of my mama’s recipe. The southern way, the traditional way, the way my mama made hers is with sour cream, and then she would cut blocks of cheese into it and add lotsa pepper plus paprika for color.
One reason this recipe here is so sopped up is it’s layered with a rich egg custard and lots and lots of cheese. It’s the cheese that has the !ava, hunny! And it doesn’t matter what cheese you use. Grate up what’s in the fridge and mix ’em together for a pasta party! Cheddar, sharp cheddar, Gruyère, Swiss, Parmesan . . . they all like to play together!
While I make my mac in a big, deep cast-iron skillet, you can use a big casserole dish or a couple smaller ones to bake yours. Just know that your cookin’ time will be different and depend on how deep you’ve got yours layered.
Starting out, I was always so scared to try out a Yule Log recipe – they always look so intimidating! But I encourage you to give it a go. Even if it ends up looking like a mess, it’ll still taste delicious! I tried something a little different with this Yule Log and added a line of frozen chocolate cremeux. It’s totally optional but it really elevates the dessert and helps you advance your skills.
This recipe is so light, not overly sweet or heavy. It’s a real showstopper for the Christmas table – the ultimate festive dessert.
ACTIVE TIME: 1 HOUR — BAKE TIME: 35 MINUTES — TOTAL TIME: 1 HOUR 35 MINUTES — MAKES ONE 10-INCH PIE
With its incredibly rich, nuanced, bittersweet flavor, from-scratch butterscotch pudding is worlds away from the dull, sweet kind you get from an instant mix. But making butterscotch pudding can be temperamental: A custard is combined with homemade caramel, and the usual approach of boiling it from start to finish is tricky in a blink-and-you've-burned-it way. Our method is forgiving: Boil the caramel to jump-start it, then reduce the heat and gently simmer it until it reaches the right temperature. Most recipes have you temper the yolks and cornstarch, add everything to the dairy in the pot, and stir away. We swapped this fussy method in favor of pouring the boiling caramel directly over the thickening agents. When taking the temperature of the caramel in step 1, tilt the saucepan and move the thermometer back and forth to equalize hot and cool spots.