Dairy

The classic combination of peanut butter and grape jelly inspired this kid-friendly smoothie.

This vibrant smoothie is full of vitamins and antioxidants.

The warming spices of chai flavor this fruity smoothie.

The flavors of a strawberry rhubarb crumble mingle in this satisfying smoothie, which is thickened by uncooked oats.

This smoothie has all the familiar flavors of carrot cake: sweet coconut, buttery walnuts, fragrant cinnamon, and warm vanilla.

I've worked on my fried chicken for many years, researching every recipe that I could lay my hands on, from early antebellum instructions to the Kentucky Colonel's secret technique. This recipe uses five fats, and each one contributes to the flavor of the result. To do the chicken right, you need an old black cast-iron skillet with a lid. Sure, you can make it in a deep fryer (like we do at the restaurant), but I prefer the old-fashioned way, which is nearly impossible to pull off in a restaurant. The skillets take up so much stove space that you can't make more than ten orders at a time. So this isn't the fried chicken you're going to eat at Husk. This is the way grandmas cook fried chicken in the South, and it's the way everyone should be making fried chicken at home. This recipe takes a lot of time and attention, way more than most conventional approaches (the chicken must be brined for 12 hours, so plan ahead). But it's good. Be sure to ask your butcher for the chicken skins to render for fat and to save the cooking fat, which makes mighty fine gravy. I've thrown that recipe in here too, to complete the meal just like my grandma would have.

Prep the savory hash and refrigerate in individual ramekins for a quick and 
easy breakfast; just top with an egg and bake.

For perfectly browned tops, cook one pan at a time on the topmost oven rack.

If using large mustard greens, remove the tough stems and tear leaves into bite-size pieces. Smaller leaves can be left whole.

This bread is also perfect with chili.

These sausage-studded cheese puffs are a Cajun take on a classic French appetizer.

Indulgent raspberry cream cheese makes homemade brownies even better.

Feta, Kalamata olives, oregano, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice give this grilled-squash pizza its unmistakably Greek flavor. I use a panini press to grill the slices of yellow squash and zucchini because I love the look and slightly charred flavor this method produces. You can also cook the squash in the oven or on a grill or stove-top grill pan. Grilling the cut face of a lemon half in the same way gives it a beautiful appearance and tones down its acidity a bit.

When my wife, Julie, and I got married, we knew there was only one place to go for our honeymoon: Italy. I was excited to take her to Gombitelli, the tiny town in the mountains near Lucca where my dad's side of the family came from. My great-grandparents, Angelo and Olimpia Gemignani, had left Gombitelli for America at the turn of the last century, and my Grandpa Frank was born right after they got off the boat. We meandered through the Tuscan countryside, following increasingly sketchy gravel roads and finally ending up on a narrow donkey trail that wound up the side of a steep mountain. I remembered this road from a visit I'd made seven years earlier. Since then, it seemed to have eroded and gotten even narrower. It was barely wide enough for a car, with a sheer drop along one side and, naturally, no guardrail. We came to a dead end, the front of the car facing a deep ravine, and an old man came out of his house, waving violently and screaming at us in Italian. I rolled down the window and said "Gemignani?" His expression changed from rage to joy as he motioned to follow him and raced off, back down the road, yelling "Gemignani! Gemignani!" I made the most terrifying U-turn of my life and followed him. The minute I saw the little house and farm, I had the same overwhelming feeling I'd had the first time I'd been there. It was like stepping into my grandpa's farm in California. Although he'd never even been to Italy, he had the blood of a Tuscan contadino—and there in front of me was his backyard in every detail: the same flowers, the lemon tree, the dogwood, the fava beans, the big wine jugs wrapped in straw, the rusty tools scattered around. That California farm and my grandpa are long gone, but in that moment, I was home again. My cousins had decided there was one thing they absolutely had to serve us for our welcome meal: pizza, of course. And this is the one they made. It was quite thin, almost like a toasted flatbread, and I've replicated that in this recipe by rolling the dough out and docking it, so you get a light, crisp crust that's just right with the gutsy puttanesca-style combination of crushed tomatoes, olives, garlic, and anchovies.

In 2013, I was a judge at a big pizza competition in Paris. In two days, I tasted seventy-three pizzas, most of them too rich and fussy for my taste. Let's just say that almost every entry featured smoked fish, foie gras, gold leaf, or edible flowers. But one extravagant ingredient that I thought really did work was truffles, and that inspired me to come up with this pizza that makes the most of truffle paste, wild mushrooms, and two of my favorite French cheeses: nutty Comté and triple-cream Saint André. If you like, you can top the fully baked pizza with paper-thin slices of prosciutto or speck. And if you can get your hands on a fresh truffle, shave it on top right at the table. That's the kind of simple, earthy luxury I can really get behind.