Main

An omelet makes a light, quick, nutritious, and economical breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It is a comforting dish, thanks to its tenderness and the simplicity of its flavors: fresh eggs, a touch of butter, and a little cheese or other filling to add flavor and nuance. For the omelet I make most often, I stir fresh herbs (parsley, chive, sorrel, tarragon, or chervil) into the eggs before they are cooked and fill the omelet with a bit of Gruyère or soft ricotta. There are countless other possible fillings for omelets: the leftover spoonful of last night’s sautéed greens or roasted peppers, for example, or a morsel of braised lamb or sautéed ham. It should go without saying that very fresh eggs from hens fed organic feed and allowed to forage freely outdoors make the tastiest omelets. Farmers’ markets often sell such eggs. At grocery stores, look for eggs that are local, free-range, and, if possible, certified organic. Count 2 to 3 eggs per person. I prefer omelets that are not too thick, are delicately puffed and folded, and are still moist on the inside. To achieve this, I use this rule of thumb for the size of pan: 2 eggs in a 6-inch pan, 3 eggs in an 8-inch pan, 6 in a 10-inch pan, and no more than 12 in a 12-inch pan. The beaten eggs should be no more than 1/4 inch deep. The pan itself should be heavy and smooth-surfaced or nonstick. Preheat the pan over medium-low heat for 3 to 5 minutes before adding the eggs. This is the most important step for quick, consistent, and nonstick cooking. Crack your eggs into a bowl and, right before they are to be cooked, add a pinch of salt per egg (they turn watery when salted ahead), and beat them lightly with a fork or a whisk. The omelet will be more fluffy and tender if the eggs are well combined, but not beaten into a completely homogenous mixture. Put a knob of butter in the hot pan; it will melt and foam up. Swirl it around and, as the foam subsides and the butter starts to give off its distinctive nut-like aroma, but before it starts to brown, pour in the eggs. If you are making a large omelet, turn the heat up at this time to medium (this is not necessary with a small omelet). There should be a satisfying sizzle as the eggs enter the pan. The edges of the omelet will begin to set almost immediately (if they don’t, turn up the heat). Pull the edges towards the center with a fork or spatula, allowing uncooked egg to flow over the exposed bottom of the hot pan. Do this until the bottom of the omelet is set, lifting the edges and tilting the pan to let liquid egg flow underneath. When the eggs are mostly set, sprinkle on the cheese or other fillings. Cook a moment longer, fold the omelet in half over itself, and slide it onto a plate. To make a rolled omelet, tilt the pan down and away from you, shaking the pan to scoot the omelet towards the far edge of the pan and folding the near edge of the omelet over onto itself. Continue to tilt the pan, rolling the omelet towards the downward side. Then fold the far edge over the top and roll the omelet out of the pan onto a warm plate, seam side down. The whole process will have taken less than a minute. Drag a piece of butter over the top to make the omelet shine.

Fish and shellfish are superb grilled. The searing heat quickly seals in juices and delicately perfumes the flesh with smoke. Fish can be grilled as fillets, as steaks, or whole. Shellfish such as scallops and oysters can be grilled in the shell or shucked. Shrimp can be grilled peeled or unpeeled. All these are delicious seasoned with nothing more than salt and pepper and a squeeze of lemon, but advance marinades of olive oil and herbs, tangy salsas such as the peach (page 231) or tomato (page 231), and Herb Butter (page 48), Béarnaise (page 229), or warm butter sauce (page 228) are also possibilities. A hot fire is best for everything except large whole fish. Use the hand test: you should be able to hold your hand an inch or two over the grill for no more than 2 seconds. The grill should be preheated, cleaned, and, most importantly, oiled, just before putting on the fish, to help keep it from sticking. Season fish fillets and steaks with salt and pepper and brush them with oil before putting to grill. Or marinate them with a combination of herbs, spices, citrus zest, and olive oil. Let fish sit in a marinade for at least an hour to allow the flavors to penetrate. An average fillet about an inch thick will take 6 to 8 minutes to cook. If the skin has been left on (it gets crispy and delicious cooked on a grill), place the fillet skin side down and cook it mostly on the skin side. Check for doneness after about 6 minutes, and turn at the last minute to sear the other side. A fillet without the skin should be cooked 3 to 4 minutes on each side. Rotate after about 2 minutes to make crosshatched grill marks. Check for doneness after about 6 minutes, and turn at the last minute to sear the other side. To test, press on the flesh with your finger or a spatula, or probe the flesh with a knife. The fish is done when the meat is just set and slightly firm to the touch but still moist. Fish such as salmon and tuna are delicious seared on the outside and very rare inside, still shiny and translucent. Remember that the fish will continue to cook after it is taken off the grill. If cooked for too long, fish can become quite dry. A fish steak is a cross-section at least 1 inch thick that contains some backbone and is surrounded by the skin. Grill the same way as a skinless fillet, but turn it after 5 minutes and check for doneness after 8. Check by feel or by cutting into the flesh near the backbone to see inside. The flesh should separate easily from the bones but still be quite moist. A whole fish should be scaled and gutted; any fishmonger will do this. Cook the fish whole and unboned, with its head on, if possible; the fish will be more succulent. Season well with salt and pepper or marinate as described above, turning the fish now and then in the marinade. Cook smaller fish like anchovies and sardines over a hot fire, threaded on skewers for easy turning. (I love fresh anchovies marinated with a little chopped mint and grilled over a searing hot fire.) Trim off the fins and the tail-ends of larger fish (kitchen shears make short work of this chore). The belly cavity can be stuffed with lemon slices and herbs. Because they take much longer to cook, big fish need a medium-hot fire. To turn over a big fish on the grill, gently roll it as often as necessary to keep the skin from burning. Measure the fish at its thickest point and allow about 10 minutes per inch. A good friend of mine catches big fish, cleans and scales them, and grills them wrapped entirely in fennel fronds or herb branches, or sometimes in tender leafing branches from his lemon tree, tied in place with wet string. This overcoat of greenery steams and perfumes the fish and they taste divine. Whole fish are done when the flesh easily separates from the bone. If tied up in greenery, unwrap it, and gently separate the fillets from the central backbone, picking out any rib bones that come off with the fillets. Shucked scallops, oysters, squid, and shrimp (peeled or ...

A poached egg is easily cooked, incredibly nutritious, economical, and easily served at any meal. Poached eggs perched on a buttered toasted slice of tender bread is a perfect breakfast; a shimmering bowl of chicken broth served with an egg poached in it is a nourishing lunch that can generate a warm sense of well-being; and curly endive tossed in a warm vinaigrette with bacon and topped with a poached egg is a favorite dinner salad of mine—the egg enriching the vinaigrette as it coats the leaves. A poached egg is cracked from its shell and cooked in water, stock, or, sometimes, wine until the white has just solidified and the yolk has heated through. The poaching liquid should be very hot, but without any bubbles breaking the surface. This gentle still heat keeps the white tender and helps the egg keep its shape while cooking. Fresh eggs are best. A fresh egg cracked onto a plate has a thick, jellylike white that clings to the deep orange yolk, which stands up plump and high. As eggs age, their flavor dissipates and their whites thin out to the point of being watery at the edges, making it difficult to poach one with any success. Use a heavy pan for even heat dispersal, which helps keep the eggs from sticking to the bottom. If a heavy pan is not available, use a flame tamer. A relatively shallow pan will make it easier to remove the eggs from the hot water. I use a low-sided saucepan. Fill the pan with water 2 to 3 inches deep, add a large splash of vinegar, and put the pan over a medium fire. The vinegar speeds the coagulation of the whites, keeping them from billowing out into the water. Use good-tasting vinegar, as you will be able to taste it slightly. I add about 1 tablespoon to 4 cups of water, but if you particularly like the flavor of vinegar on your eggs (and it is delicious), add more. When poaching eggs in soup or broth don’t use the vinegar. Carefully, without breaking the yolks, crack the eggs into individual cups or small bowls. This way you can easily remove any fragments of eggshell and it will be easier to slip each egg gently into the water; and if you do break a yolk, you can set it aside for another use. When the water is very hot, but not bubbling, hold the cup right at the level of the water and carefully slide the egg in. This gentle entry into the water will help the egg keep its shape. After a minute you can gently stir the water a while to discourage the eggs from sticking to the bottom of the pan. Use care, though; the eggs are very delicate until the whites are set. Lower the heat if the water begins to simmer. The cooking time will vary depending on the number of eggs, their size, and the temperature they were when they went into the water. On average, a single large egg straight from the refrigerator will take about 3 minutes to cook. The white will be set but the yolk will still be soft; for a firmer yolk allow up to 5 minutes. Test for doneness by gently lifting the egg with a slotted spoon and pressing it gently with your finger to feel how set the white and yolk are. Carefully remove the cooked eggs and drain for a moment on a towel, blotting the top very gently to dry. When cooking for a crowd, freshly poached eggs can be kept for a few minutes in a bowl of warm water or stock while another batch is being cooked.

A steak is perfect for the grill; tender, well marbled, cut thin and flat, it is tailor-made for searing over a bed of hot coals. A properly grilled steak is mouthwatering: brown and crisp on the outside, pink and juicy on the inside. Is there an easier, less complicated dinner than a grilled steak with a green salad? And, agreeably, the cleanup is practically effortless. Most any cut of steak will do. The classics are rib eye, New York, fillet or tenderloin, and porterhouse. There are others that are more economical, but every bit as tasty. Flatiron from the chuck, skirt steak, hangar steak, and bavette are all flavorful cuts, as are flank, top sirloin, and tri-tip. Steaks can be grilled as single portions, or larger steaks can be grilled whole and sliced for more than one. When bound for the grill, a steak is best cut 1 to 2 inches thick. Any thinner and the inside will be overdone before the outside is properly seared; any thicker, the outside starts to char before the inside is ready. Trim off all but a 1/4 -inch layer of fat; the less dripping fat, the fewer flare-ups. While seasoning a steak simply, with only salt and fresh-ground black pepper, is enough, I especially like an herb crust. I chop lots of fresh herbs together—thyme, oregano, and marjoram, in any combination, but always with rosemary—and mix them with coarse salt and fresh-ground black pepper. This is rubbed onto the steak with a bit of olive oil an hour or so before grilling. For even cooking, steak should be taken out of the refrigerator and allowed to come to room temperature, which takes 30 minutes to an hour. Prepare a hot fire and preheat and clean the grill with a wire brush. You should not be able to tolerate the heat for more than 2 seconds when you hold your hand over the grill. Oil the grill and put on the steak. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes and if you want to make nice crosshatched grill marks, rotate the steak a little over 90 degrees. Cook for another 2 to 3 minutes and then turn the steak over. (If the steak has a border of fat, turn this onto the grill, holding the steak up with tongs, to sear the fat for a minute or two before grilling the other side.) Cook the other side for 2 to 3 minutes and rotate a little over 90 degrees. Start checking for doneness after another 2 minutes, pressing your index finger or the back of the tongs into the meat. It will still be soft when rare, a bit springy when medium-rare, and quite resilient when well-done. You can verify this by cutting into the steak, but keep testing by pressure—after a few steaks, you will be able to judge without cutting. Take the steak off the grill when it is a little less done than you want; residual heat will continue to cook the meat while it rests. A 1-inch steak will be grilled rare in about 8 minutes, and grilled medium in about 10 to 12 minutes. Monitor your fire while the steak is cooking, moving the coals to make the fire hotter or cooler as needed. If the fire flares up, move the meat out of the flames right away or the fire will burn the meat, forming an acrid, black crust. After you take a steak off the grill, let it rest a few minutes before serving to stabilize the internal juices so that they don’t run out excessively when the steak is cut into. If it’s not to be served right away, cover it loosely with foil to help keep it warm; but don’t seal it tightly or it will continue to cook.

Fish is particularly good when poached; its fine flavor and texture are preserved in the gentle heat of the liquid. Submerged until done in hot, but not boiling, liquid, the flesh remains moist, tender, and light. Salmon, halibut, cod, sole, and trout are a few examples of fish that are well suited to poaching, whole or in steaks or fillets. Anything from plain salted water to a flavorful vegetable stock with wine (called a Court Bouillon; see page 335) can be used for the liquid. Because of its delicate flavors, poached fish is best served with a simple sauce such as a butter sauce, a mayonnaise, or a variation of salsa verde. Another way to poach fish, especially for a casual meal, is slightly different from the classic method of completely submerging the fish in the poaching liquid. I call it shallow poaching. There’s no special stock to make, the fish is in and out of the pan and onto the table in a matter of minutes, and a quick delicious sauce can be made from the liquid. Fill a low-sided heavy pan with an inch or two of water, or enough to come about halfway up the sides of the fish. Add a good splash of white wine (or a smaller one of wine vinegar); a sprig or two of parsley, fennel, or thyme—or a combination; and a large pinch of salt. Sometimes I float a slice or two of lemon in the water. Bring this to a boil and immediately turn it down to a barely perceptible simmer. Put in the fish, having seasoned it first with salt. Cook the fish for a few minutes on one side, carefully turn it over, and continue cooking until done. Be sure the water does not come back to a boil during the cooking. A thin fillet about 1/2 inch thick will cook in 5 to 7 minutes; a thick steak may take up to 12 minutes. Probe the fish to monitor the doneness. When done, remove the fish with a slotted spatula to a warm plate. To make a quick pan sauce, raise the heat and reduce the liquid by half. Have ready two generous pats of butter cut into small pieces. Whisk or swirl in the butter, bit by bit. Turn off the heat and remove the pan from the burner when the last bit of butter is added, and finish incorporating it off the heat. Taste the sauce and add, as needed, a squeeze of lemon or a pinch of salt or both. Pour the sauce over the warm fish and serve. Very thin fillets such as sole can be cooked in even less water, with butter already added. Pour 1/4 inch of water into a heavy pan, season with salt, and add a sprig or two of fresh herbs. Pour in a splash of wine or wine vinegar and about 2 tablespoons of butter. Put the pan over medium heat and when the liquid is just below a simmer, add the seasoned fillets and cover the pan. Cook until done, for 4 to 5 minutes, checking occasionally to monitor the heat. Remove the fish, raise the heat, and bring the sauce to a boil to thicken it. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed. Pour the sauce over the fish and serve.

As the name implies, shallow-frying requires more fat than pan-frying or sautéing but not as much as deep-frying. When they are to be shallow-fried, most foods are first coated with breadcrumbs or covered (or dredged) in flour. This coating turns golden brown and seals in juices resulting in such crisp, succulent dishes as fried chicken, breaded pork cutlets, fried zucchini, and sole in breadcrumbs. The goal is a light, even, unbroken coating. To dredge, first season the food with salt and pepper, and drag it or toss it in flour, shaking off any excess. Some foods, such as thin fillets of fish, are then fried directly. Other foods, particularly those that take longer to cook, such as pieces of chicken on the bone or a whole fish, benefit from resting an hour or so after dredging to allow the floured surface to dry and firm up. Don’t let the pieces touch one another or the coating will stick and tear when it is time to cook. (An easy way to flour chicken is to put the flour in a strong paper bag, add the chicken and shake.) Breadcrumbs burn more easily than flour and are best applied to meat and vegetables that have been cut thin enough that the interior will be cooked by the time the crumbs have browned. Season the meat or vegetables with salt, pepper, and any herbs or spices, as desired. For breadcrumbs to stick, the food needs to be evenly moist. First dredge it in flour, dip it in egg beaten with a little water, and then roll it (or pat it) in dry fresh breadcrumbs. (Coarse cornmeal can be substituted for breadcrumbs.) To keep your fingers from getting breaded along the way, use one hand to roll the food in the flour and crumbs and the other to dip it in the egg mixture. A breadcrumb coating will be crisper if allowed to rest an hour or so before cooking. Once again, be sure that the breaded pieces are not touching one another while they rest. For shallow-frying, choose oils with a high smoking temperature, such as pure olive oil or peanut oil, or clarified butter, which adds rich flavor. Or use a combination of oil and clarified butter. Lard, suet, duck fat, and schmaltz (chicken fat) are all distinctively flavorful frying fats. Potatoes, one of the few foods that don’t need to be floured or breaded before being shallow-fried, are especially tasty when cooked in a combination of clarified butter and duck fat. A heavy pan heats the fat evenly, and it should have low sides, for easy turning and to prevent steaming. The pan must be filled with enough fat to come halfway up the sides of what you are cooking. For most shallow-frying, that will be 1/4 to 1/2 inch deep. Otherwise the coating will get soggy and not cook along the edges where the oil didn’t reach. Heat the oil until it is hot but not smoking and gently add the food. Don’t crowd the pan; fry in batches if necessary. Cook until brown and crisp, then turn and cook until crisp on the other side. Monitor the heat, turning it down if the food is browning too quickly and turning it up if there is no browning after a minute or two. If fat is absorbed during the cooking, add more as necessary to maintain the proper level. Food that takes a while to cook, such as chicken, may need to be turned a few times. Remove from the pan when cooked and drain well on paper or an absorbent towel before serving.

Once the dish is assembled, braised chicken legs take less than an hour to cook, and they can be combined with almost any herbs, spices, and vegetables. Their meat is tender and succulent, their sauce concentrated and tasty. Legs are the best choice for a braise, but breasts may be included for those who prefer white meat. Just keep in mind that in order to remain tender and juicy, breasts need to cook for a much shorter time. Start by seasoning the legs with salt and pepper. If time allows, do this a day ahead. Leave the legs whole, or cut them through the joint to separate them into thighs and drumsticks. Brown them in a cast-iron or other heavy pan over medium heat, in a generous amount of oil, skin side down. Or for more flavor, use a mixture of oil and butter. It takes about 12 minutes to get the skin really crisp and golden brown. Take the time to do this or you will be disappointed in the end, because if there is only superficial color on the skin it will wash off in the braise, leaving the skin pale and unappetizing. Once the skin is browned, turn the pieces and cook briefly on the other side, about 4 minutes (there is no skin to crisp on this side and the meat will brown quickly). Remove the chicken legs from the pan and pour off the fat. Add wine, tomatoes, broth, or water to deglaze the pan, scraping up any brown bits stuck to the bottom of the pan. Cook the aromatic vegetables in a bit of oil as directed or add them raw to the pan. Arrange the chicken legs, skin side up, on the vegetables, and pour in the deglazing juices and broth or water to come halfway up the sides of the legs. Bring to a boil, turn down to a simmer, cover the pan, and cook for 45 minutes. Or bake in a 325° F oven. When the chicken legs are cooked, remove them from the pan and discard any loose herb stems or bay leaves or bouquet garni (squeezing it first to extract any juices). Strain the juices into a small pan or bowl and skim off all the fat. Taste the sauce and add salt if needed. Reunite all the parts, plus any vegetables that have been cooked separately, and serve at once or reheat later. If there is too much sauce, reduce it to concentrate the flavors. The salt will concentrate, too, so don’t add any more until the sauce has finished reducing. When braising chicken breasts, do not remove the skin or the bones; they both contribute flavor and help keep the meat moist and tender. Remove the first two joints of the wing by cutting through the joint. Leave the breasts whole or cut them in two so that the thicker wing portion is slightly smaller. Season and brown the breast pieces with the legs. Add the browned breasts with their resting juices to the pan after the legs have been cooking for 30 minutes. There is another method for braising chicken legs. The legs are cooked in the oven, covered, until tender and uncovered and browned at the end. This works especially well when cooking for a crowd, but is not suitable for breasts. Nestle the seasoned legs, skin side down, into the aromatic vegetables (cooked or not, as required by the recipe) with the herbs and spices. Pour in enough wine and stock or water to reach halfway up the legs. To save time, bring the stock to a boil before adding. Cover the dish tightly and bake in a 350°F oven for 40 minutes, or until the legs are tender. Uncover the dish and turn the legs over. If the liquid is so deep it covers the legs, pour enough off to fully expose the skin and reserve it for later. Return the legs to the oven, uncovered, and cook until they are golden brown on top, about 20 minutes. Skim the sauce and serve as above.

Good choices for stew meat are oxtails, shanks, beef chuck, short ribs, pork shoulder, beef cheeks, lamb shoulder, and lamb neck. These cuts all have lots of connective tissue and fat to make them tender and full of flavor. For stew, the meat is cut into smaller pieces. Have your butcher cut bony cuts such as short ribs and lamb shanks into 2-inch lengths. Cut boneless meat such as chuck or shoulder into 1 1/2-inch cubes. The pieces may be cut larger for a more rustic stew, but cut any smaller they tend to fall apart when cooked. If you are buying beef that has already been cut up for stew, ask what cut it is from. Most meat counters use top and bottom round, which I find too lean to make a good stew; they cook up dry. Ask the butcher to cut some chuck into stew meat for you instead, or buy a large piece and cut it at home. Season the meat with salt and pepper. If you have the time, season it a day ahead. If you make a marinade, stir the meat now and then while it is marinating; this will help the marinade flavor the meat evenly. Any vegetables in the marinade I first cook slightly in a bit of oil, for more flavor. Let them cool before adding to the meat. Brown the meat well in a fair amount of oil, lard, or fat. Don’t crowd the pieces; brown them in as many batches as necessary. You can use the same oil for each batch as long as the pan does not burn. If it does, wipe out the pan and continue with fresh oil. When the meat is browned, drain the fat from the pan and deglaze the pan with wine, tomatoes, broth, or water. Short ribs and oxtails are some of my favorite stewing cuts, because they make such a flavorful sauce. These cuts can be browned in the oven: Preheat the oven to 450°F; lay the meat out on a rack in a shallow pan; and cook until the meat is brown and the fat is rendered. With this method there is no pan to deglaze, but it is quicker and easier than browning on the stovetop. If the aromatic vegetables are to be left in the stew, cut them into even, medium-size pieces. If they are to be discarded at the end, leave them in large chunks, for easy removal. Put the vegetables, meat, and deglazing liquid into a pot. Choose a pot large enough to accommodate the meat in two, or possibly three, layers. If the meat is piled higher than this, the bottom layer will cook and fall apart before the upper layers are done. Stirring doesn’t really help this much, and the chance of sticking and burning is much greater. Add broth or water, as the recipe asks, almost to the top of the meat, but do not submerge it. When I am using a marinade that is mostly wine, I like to reduce it (boil it down) by half or more before adding it to the pot. This removes the raw taste of the wine and allows room for more broth, which makes a richer sauce. Bring the liquid to a boil, then turn the heat down to a bare simmer, and cover the pot. Use a flame tamer if necessary to keep the stew from boiling. Or cook the stew in a preheated 325°F oven. If the stew boils hard there’s a good chance the meat will fall apart and the sauce emulsify (the fat and the liquid bind together, which makes the sauce murky). Check the pot now and then to monitor the cooking and the level of the liquid; add more broth or water if needed. Cook until the meat is very tender. This will take anywhere from 2 to 4 hours depending on what cut is being used. There should be very little or no resistance when the meat is poked with a small knife or skewer. When the meat is done, skim the sauce well, removing as much of the fat as you can. This is much easier to do after the simmering has stopped and the liquid has had a chance to settle. The sauce may be strained, but do so carefully: the meat is very delicate now and can fall apart. If the stew is being served another day, the fat can be simply lifted off after chilling in the refrigerator. Thicken a thin or watery sauce with a mixture of one part flour stirred together with one part soft butter. Wh...

This is an excellent way to cook a shoulder roast, whether pork, lamb, or beef; it combines the best of roasting and braising into one method to produce a meltingly tender, mouthwatering golden roast with a rich, deeply flavorful sauce. The meat is cooked in the oven, uncovered, with a small amount of liquid, which allows a large part of the roast to brown and render its fat in the dry heat of the oven while the underside is simmering in flavorful juices. After about an hour the roast is turned, submerging the browned meat in the juices to absorb moisture and flavor, while exposing the underside to the browning heat of the oven. From then on, the roast is turned in and out of the liquid to alternately brown and braise. While the meat is in the liquid it is bathed with sugars from the vegetables and wine; these sugars caramelize when exposed to the dry heat, making a fabulous golden crust that is protected from burning each time it is turned back into the sauce. Any shoulder cut will do—for more flavor, when possible choose a roast that has the bone in (called blade-in for beef chuck). The meat will be tender after it is cooked and will easily separate from the bone. If the butcher has not already done so, trim the majority of the fat from the outside of the roast and season well with salt and pepper. For added flavor use a dry rub: herbs, ground spices, and chiles mixed with the salt and pepper. Or make a paste with pounded garlic, herbs, spices, and a bit of olive oil to rub into the meat after it is seasoned. Do this in advance—overnight if there’s time—to allow the flavors to penetrate the meat. Cut the aromatic vegetables into large pieces. Place them in a heavy baking dish just a bit larger than the roast. Add any herbs and spices and set the seasoned meat on top of the vegetables, fat side up. Pour in liquid (wine, stock, or water) about a quarter of the way up the sides of the roast. Cook, uncovered, in a 375°F oven for an hour or so. Turn the roast over and cook for 30 minutes, then turn it again and cook for another 30 minutes. At this point check the meat to see if it is done. It should offer little or no resistance to the probing of a sharp knife or skewer. If it needs more time, turn and cook until done, turning the roast every half hour. The total cooking time may be as much as 3 1/2 hours depending on the size of the roast. While the meat is cooking, keep an eye on the liquid and add more as needed. This can be deceptive at times, since rendered fat can make it look as though there is more liquid than there really is. Check with a spoon to gauge the level of the actual liquid and add more as needed. If all the liquid were to evaporate, the vegetables and meat would stick and burn, and there would be no sauce to serve with the meat. When done, remove the meat from the pan. Skim the sauce well and either discard the vegetables if they’ve lost all their flavor and you don’t want to serve them, or else push them through a food mill or coarse strainer and add them to the skimmed sauce. Reheat the sauce, slice the meat, and serve it with the sauce poured over or passed around in a pitcher or sauceboat.

Tender cuts of meat—chicken breasts, steaks, and chops, for example—are prime candidates for pan-frying, and when properly cooked have a mouthwateringly crisp, browned exterior and a tender, juicy interior. Pan-frying makes dinner a breeze; there is practically no preparation involved and the meat is cooked quickly and sent straight to the table. The fundamentals for achieving good results are a heavy pan, high heat, and a fairly thin piece of meat. Why does a heavy pan matter? Have you ever cooked something in a thin pan and had it burn, with the burn exactly the same shape as the electrical element below? This shows how a thin pan transmits heat directly from the burner to what is cooking instead of diffusing the heat across the pan’s surface. A heavy pan can distribute heat—and a lot of it—from the burner to the bottom of the pan. This is key in pan-frying and sautéing, because the pan needs to be quite hot to sear and caramelize or brown, but not burn, the surface of what is being cooked. If I could have only one pan, it would be a cast-iron skillet. The heavy iron heats evenly, making it a wonderful vehicle for browning and frying. An added bonus is that a seasoned cast-iron pan is virtually nonstick. The next-best thing after a cast-iron skillet is a stainless-steel-lined heavy aluminum or aluminum-core frying pan. The aluminum is an excellent heat conductor, while the stainless steel offers a good nonreactive surface to cook on. Besides being heavy, the pan should have low sides so the meat won’t steam as it cooks. Because pan-frying requires high heat, the meat you choose should be fairly thin. Chops should be 1/2 to 3/4 inch thick and steaks 1 inch thick or less. Over high heat, thicker cuts will get crusty and dry on the outside before the inside is done. (A good method for cooking thicker chops and steaks is to brown them, by cooking them briefly on both sides at high heat, and pop them, skillet and all, into a 375°F oven to finish cooking. Alternatively, after browning, finish cooking over lowered heat, with the pan covered.) For even cooking, the thickness should be uniform. Chicken breasts can be lightly pounded at the thicker end to even them out so they will cook consistently. It is wise to have all your ingredients ready to go before you start cooking: the oil should be handy, the meat should be seasoned, and, if you are going to make a pan sauce, those ingredients should be on hand as well. Heat the pan first: a hot pan in combination with oil will sear the meat and keep it from sticking. Otherwise, the meat will sweat and its leaking juices will cause the meat to adhere to the bottom of the pan. Once the pan is hot, add a little bit of oil, or oil and butter (butter alone burns too quickly at high temperatures). Add the oil after the pan has heated so that it does not start to smoke and burn before you are ready to start cooking. For pan-frying only a little oil is needed, just enough to generously coat the bottom of the pan. After a few seconds, when the oil is shimmering, put the meat in the pan. The meat should fit in the pan in a single layer with a little space between each piece. If the pieces are crowded or overlapping, the liquid they release will keep the meat from browning; if there are large areas of the pan left exposed, the oil in these areas will burn and smoke. If necessary, fry in batches or in two pans simultaneously. Cook the meat on one side until it is nicely browned. Peek underneath after 2 or 3 minutes to monitor the browning; lower the heat if it is browning too quickly, or, if nothing is happening, turn it up. To brown the other side, turn the meat with tongs or a long, sharp-tined fork. In general, most cuts of meat need to cook for 4 to 5 minutes on each side. Chicken breasts can cook for a longer time on the skin side, 8 minutes or so, leaving the tender meaty side to cook only a few minutes. I am an advocate for leaving the skin on...

A properly seasoned and cooked roast is an elegant and simple dish to prepare, and something very valuable to know how to do confidently for feeding a large gathering of family or friends. With insufficient know-how, roasting meat can be an intimidating prospect, so here are a few basic ground rules to equip you for cooking a superb roast. I know I’m repeating myself here, but the best meat comes from animals that are locally produced, pasture-raised, and organically fed. Factory farms may produce a lot of inexpensive meat, but it is at great cost to the health of the land, the animals, and both the people who eat them and those involved in their production. Not only is the meat from humanely raised animals the tastiest, but your purchase supports those in your community who are tending the land, creating a very rewarding reciprocal relationship. It is really important to seek out markets and butchers who carry this type of meat. Some cuts of meat can be bought with or without the bone. Roasting meat on the bone will produce a better roast; it helps the meat to retain its juices and adds flavor as the roast cooks. Leg of lamb, lamb shoulder roast, rack of lamb, saddle of lamb, bone-in pork loin, pork shoulder roast, and prime rib are some examples of cuts that can be roasted on the bone. For easier carving, the bone may be removed before the meat is taken to the table to be cut. Or slice it in the kitchen and arrange it on a warm platter to pass; that is what I do most often. Seasoning the meat in advance makes a roast more juicy, tender, and tasty. Applying the salt one day ahead of cooking will do, but two or three days ahead is not too far in advance, especially for a large roast. A fresh herb marinade or dry rub is good to put on a few hours ahead or even the night before. It is important to bring the meat to room temperature before you cook it. Meat put to roast when still cold will cook very unevenly. The exterior will be fully cooked before the interior has even had a chance to warm up. Take the meat from the refrigerator at least 1 hour before roasting, or 2 hours for a bone-in roast. A good temperature for roasting is 375°F. Choose a pan just slightly larger than the roast. A rack is not necessary; instead, turn the meat twice while it is cooking. First, after the meat has browned, after 20 to 30 minutes; then, after another 20 minutes, when the underside has browned, turn it again and finish cooking. This allows for even browning and distributes the juices and fat all through the meat as it is cooking. (If the roast is small, brown it in a pan with a little olive oil over high heat before putting it into the oven to roast. It does not need to be turned then, unless it is browning too much on the top.) If you are roasting a rack of lamb, a bone-in pork loin, or a prime rib, lay the meat in the pan, bones down, for a natural rack. These roasts do not need to be turned. How do you know when it is done? I will poke and prod a roast to see if it is done, but I always take the internal temperature to confirm my judgment. An instant-read thermometer can be inserted anywhere in the roast and will immediately reveal the interior temperature. For the most accurate temperature reading, insert the thermometer lengthwise into the thickest part of the roast, parallel to the bone (but not touching it). You want to take the reading at the coldest part of the roast, as that will tell you where it is least done. For lamb I take the meat out at 128°F, for beef at 120 to 125°F, and for pork loin at 135°F. These temperatures are for medium-rare lamb and beef and medium-rare to medium pork. At these temperatures, the meat is still tender, juicy, and full of flavor. If you prefer your meat cooked more, for each increasing level of doneness, take the temperature up ten degrees—138°F for a medium leg of lamb, for example. It is very important to let roasted meat rest before cutting and serving. This allows ...

Roast chicken, plump, golden, and juicy, is perfect for anything from a feast to a weekday family dinner. Happily, it is an easy dish to prepare, especially if you follow these few tips. First and foremost: find a good chicken, one that has been raised with care. Because chickens are so widely available and inexpensive, we don’t often think about where they come from and how they are raised. Unfortunately, these days most chickens are produced under factory conditions, cooped up in tiny overcrowded cages, de-beaked, and fed a diet that is heavily laced with antibiotics and frequently includes animal by-products. These conditions are unhealthy and stressful for the birds (and the workers as well) and produce chickens of compromised integrity and flavor. Organic free-range chickens are raised on organic grain, without antibiotics or hormones, in less confined and more humane conditions, resulting in healthier, tastier birds. Starting with such a bird is what makes a really delicious roast chicken. Organic, free-range chickens can be found at some farmers’ markets. These are usually pasture-raised in small flocks and are the tastiest of all. If your butcher or market doesn’t carry organic chicken, you can help create demand by asking them to do so. If possible, season the chicken with salt a day or even two days before you roast it. If you roast it the day you buy it, season it as soon as you bring the bird home. The seasoning will penetrate the bird, making the meat more tender, juicy, and tasty. Make a mixture of about 1 1/2 teaspoons salt and a scant 1/4 teaspoon of fresh-ground black pepper. Unwrap the chicken. If it is wrapped in paper keep it right on the paper. Swivel the wing tips and tuck them underneath the bird; this keeps them from burning while roasting. Sprinkle the salt and pepper all over the bird, inside and out, wrap it right back up, and put it in the refrigerator. If you want to, this is the time to put herbs and garlic under the skin. Gently loosen the skin and slide thick slices of peeled garlic cloves and tender sprigs of fresh herbs underneath, working them under the skin until they are situated over the breasts and thighs. Take the chicken out of the refrigerator at least an hour before cooking. A cold bird straight from the fridge won’t roast evenly; the outside will cook but the interior will be underdone. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Roast the chicken in an ovenproof dish or pan that’s about the same size as the chicken. If a too-large pan is used, the juices that accumulate while the chicken is roasting will start to burn and smoke. An earthenware dish or small roasting pan will do, and so will an ovenproof skillet or a pie pan. Lightly oil the dish; put the chicken in it, breast side up; and roast for 20 minutes, then turn the chicken breast side down. Turning the chicken helps it cook evenly by circulating the juices and fat throughout the bird and allows the skin to brown and crisp all over. After another 20 minutes turn the chicken breast side up again and roast until done. A 3 1/2-to 4-pound chicken takes about an hour or so to cook. Start checking after about 50 minutes. The bird is ready when the legs and thighs are no longer pink and the breast is still juicy and tender. With experience you will be able to judge the doneness of a roast bird by sight, but at first you have to do a little investigating. Don’t be afraid to cut into it. The thighs are the last parts to finish cooking, so cut into the bird near the joint between the drumstick and the thigh. The meat should be hot and no longer red. After having roasted countless chickens, I rely on visual cues: I know that when the skin has started to separate from the meat on the drumsticks the bird is done. I also give the leg a little wiggle; if it moves freely, without bouncing back, this confirms what the skin has already told me. It’s important that the chicken be cooked through—b...

Risotto is Italian comfort food, a luscious dish of tender rice in its own creamy sauce. Considered by many to be labor-intensive restaurant fare, risotto is actually a basic one-pot dinner that pleases everyone. Risotto is made from starchy short-grain rice, which, when moistened with successive additions of stock, gains concentrated flavor and a distinctive saucy texture. Of the special short-grain varieties that have been developed in northern Italy specifically for risotto the best known is Arborio; others are Vialone Nano (an extra-short-grain rice), Baldo, and my favorite, Carnaroli. All these varieties have short, plump grains that can absorb a lot of liquid while retaining some textural integrity (the grains are said to have a good bite), with abundant superficial starch to make the risotto creamy. Because the rice for a risotto is cooked in fat before any broth is added, use a heavy pot, preferably stainless steel or enameled cast iron, or the rice will scorch too easily. Pick a pot with relatively high sides (but not so high that stirring is difficult and evaporation is inhibited) and a diameter that is wide enough so that when the raw rice is added it’s between one-quarter and one-half inch deep in the pot. The first step is to make a flavorful base of sautéed diced onions. The onion is cooked until soft in a generous amount of fat (usually butter, but olive oil, beef marrow, and even bacon fat are sometimes used). Once the onions are soft the rice is added and sautéed for a few minutes. In Italian this is called the tostatura, or “roasting.” The idea is to coat and seal each grain of rice. The rice will begin to sizzle and turn translucent, but it should not color or brown. At this point, some wine is added, for fruit and acidity. For 1 1/2 cups of rice, I use about 1/2 cup of wine, but I never bother to measure it exactly; I simply pour in enough wine to reach the top of the rice, without covering it. This works for any quantity of rice and is much easier than trying to make a calculation. Adding the wine before the broth gives it time to reduce and lose its raw alcohol flavor. Red wine or even beer can be substituted. When you are caught without a bottle of wine, a teaspoon or so of tasty wine vinegar added to the first addition of broth will approximate the acidity of wine. After the wine is absorbed, broth is added. I use light chicken broth most often, but vegetable, mushroom, and shellfish broths also make lovely risottos. Keep in mind that your risotto will only be as good as the broth you use to make it. Unseasoned or lightly seasoned broths are best. Many recipes say to keep the broth simmering (in its separate pan) the whole time the risotto is cooking. This isn’t necessary; in fact, I prefer not to. The longer the broth simmers, the more it reduces, and its flavor can become too strongly concentrated. I bring the broth to a boil while the onions are cooking and then turn it off. The broth stays plenty warm. The first addition of broth should just cover the rice. Adjust the heat to maintain a constant, fairly vigorous simmer. It is not necessary to stir constantly, but the risotto needs to be tended to frequently, and it certainly cannot be left on its own. When the level of liquid has dropped low enough that the rice is exposed, add more broth to cover. The broth should never be allowed to evaporate completely; the starch will coagulate and burn. Keep adding the broth in small increments; the rice should neither be flooded nor be allowed to dry out. Season the rice with salt early on. My personal rule is to salt the risotto when I make the second addition of broth. This allows the salt to penetrate the grains of rice while they are cooking. The amount of salt needed will depend on the saltiness of the broth you’re using. From the time the rice is added to the onion, a risotto takes 20 to 30 minutes to cook. Taste it often to keep track of the seasoning ...

Beans cooked and served simply seasoned—like the cannellini beans in the previous recipe with garlic and rosemary—is only one of a great many bean dishes—soups, gratins, purées, and more—that are tastier when their primary flavoring comes after an initial cooking. I sometimes add garlic or herbs or even a bit of onion while the beans are cooking the first time, but I find that good flavor is most prominent when it’s added after the primary cooking. Added flavor can mean anything from a dash of olive oil to a complex tomato sauce, depending on the dish. For example, in the classic Italian dish called fagioli all’uccelletto (which means beans seasoned like a small bird), the cooked beans are simmered in a garlicky tomato sauce with plenty of sage. An example from Mexican cuisine is frijoles refritos, beans which, after an initial cooking, are fried in lard with garlic and sautéed onions, and then mashed. (There are exceptions to every rule, and one that comes immediately to mind is that when something like a ham hock or a prosciutto bone is used to flavor beans, it can be added at the beginning to cook slowly with the beans throughout their cooking.) The beans should be drained of most of their liquid before final flavorings are added. (Save the bean water to make a tasty soup base or to moisten a gratin as it cooks.) Once the beans are ready, stir in the flavorings. Continue to cook them together for at least 10 minutes or so, to allow the flavors to infuse the beans. To make gratins like the one that follows, first sauté onions, carrots, and celery together. To make sure they contribute their full flavor, season the vegetables to taste before adding them to the beans. Beans are very lean and the addition of a flavorful oil or fat makes them taste even better.

The simple soup I make most often starts with a base of softened onions to which one or two vegetables are added. The soup is moistened with broth or water and simmered until the vegetables are tender. First, onions are gently cooked in butter or oil until soft and flavorful. A heavy-bottomed pot makes all the difference for this: it disperses the heat evenly, making it easier to cook vegetables slowly without browning. The amount of fat is important, too. You want enough butter or oil to really coat the onions. After 15 minutes or so of slow cooking, the onions will be transformed into a very soft, translucent, sweet base for the soup. Next, add a vegetable, such as carrots, sliced uniformly for even cooking. (Otherwise you will have underdone and overdone vegetables in your soup.) Salt generously (enough for the vegetables to taste good on their own) and continue cooking for a few minutes. This preliminary seasoning and cooking infuses the fat with the perfume and flavor of the vegetables. (The fat disperses the flavor throughout the soup.) This is an important technique, not just for soup but for cooking in general: building and developing flavor at each step before moving on. Now add broth or water, bring to a boil, and reduce to a simmer. Cook until the vegetables are tender but not falling apart. The soup will not taste finished until the vegetables have cooked through and given their flavor to the broth. Keep tasting. It is wonderful to discover how the flavors change and develop as the soup cooks. Does it need more salt? If you’re unsure, season a small spoonful and see if it tastes better with more. This is the only way you can find out. Many, many vegetables will make great soup when you follow this formula. The only variable is the length of time they take to cook. The best way to keep track is to keep tasting as you go. Some favorite vegetable soups that jump to mind are: turnip and turnip greens, corn, potato and leek, butternut squash, and onion. A vegetable soup made this way, with a flavorful stock rather than water, and served as a rustic “brothy” soup, will be delicious. (In fact, if the broth is rich enough, I sometimes skip any precooking in butter and add both onions and vegetables directly to the simmering broth.) If the soup is made with water instead of broth, and puréed to a uniform texture, the result will be a more delicate soup dominated by the pure flavor of the vegetables themselves. This is especially desirable for soups made from such sweet, tender vegetables as fava beans, peas, or corn. I purée such soups through a food mill, but you can also use a blender, which generates finer purées. Do be careful when using a blender to purée hot soup: always make sure the lid has an open vent hole to let the steam escape so that the whole lot doesn’t explode. Various garnishes and enrichments can be added when you serve the soup. Many cooks finish a puréed soup by spooning in a dollop of cream or stirring in a lump of butter, and a last-minute addition of herbs and spices or a squeeze of lemon can be enlivening. But use discretion; a garnish can overcomplicate or overpower the flavor of the soup itself.

Minestrone means “big soup” in Italian: a big soup of many vegetables. In order for them all to be cooked through at the same time, they’re added in stages. First a tasty soffritto (a base of aromatic vegetables) is made, long-cooking vegetables are added and moistened with water or broth, and the soup is brought to a boil, at which point the more tender vegetables are added. Dried beans and pasta are cooked separately and added at the end. The recipe below is for a classic summertime minestrone, followed by seasonal variations. The soffritto can be made of onions only but often includes carrots and celery. Fennel can be substituted for the celery when a more delicate flavor is wanted. Garlic is always added at the end of the cooking to ensure that it does not burn. Be sure to use a heavy-bottomed pot and lots of olive oil. For a more hearty soup, let the soffritto cook to a golden hue; for a less robust version, don’t let the vegetables color at all. Either way, the vegetables should be cooked through to give the soup the full benefit of their flavors; this will take 10 minutes or more. They’re done when they look and taste good enough to eat on their own. The vegetables added after the soffritto—such as squash and green beans—are cut into pieces small enough to ensure that each spoonful of soup will contain a mixture. They’re added sequentially, according to the length of time they take to cook through without getting mushy. Greens need to be cut into bite-size pieces, too; if they’re cut in strips they can hang down and dribble hot soup on your chin or your clothes. Winter greens such as kale or chard take longer to cook and should go in with the first group of vegetables. Tender greens such as spinach will cook in just a few minutes and should be added towards the end of cooking. Salt the soup as it cooks; this will intensify and improve the flavor as a last-minute salting cannot. Dried beans—and pasta, if you’re using it—should be cooked separately before being added to the soup. Save the bean cooking liquid; it adds flavor and body to the soup. The cooked beans should be added during the last 10 minutes so they have a chance to absorb flavor, but not overcook. The pasta should be added at the very end so it doesn’t overcook and get bloated and flabby. To preserve its fresh flavor, the garnish of olive oil and cheese should be added to the bowls of soup, not to the pot. I always pass a bowl of grated cheese and a bottle of olive oil at the table.

I could easily survive on beans and tortillas for days—or even weeks. In fact, that is pretty much what my diet consisted of when I worked as a food editor. I was both nostalgic and barely able to make the rent at the end of the month, and let’s face it, beans are cheap. Frijoles de la olla are just that: beans (frijoles) that come straight from the pot (olla) to your plate. No fussy seasonings, just perfectly cooked beans that are heaven in a warm tortilla with a drizzle of Mexican crema or sour cream. I always have a batch in the fridge to heat up for a hearty and very healthy dinner packed with cholesterol-lowering fiber and a good dose of protein, iron, potassium, and vitamin B1.

Making your own gnocchi is not as difficult or as time-consuming as you may think. Don’t be afraid to try it! Sweet potatoes, a favorite Mexican ingredient, give the dough for these gnocchi a subtle sweetness and added nutrients (sweet potatoes are rich in fiber and vitamins A, B, and C). A simple butter-sage sauce is all you need to finish off this satisfying dish.

My dad, Antonio (a.k.a. Tony), inspired this dish. Like a painter’s body of work, his culinary life is marked by distinct periods. When he went through an osso buco period, I decided that if I was going to be making a lot of osso buco, it was going to be a Mexican osso buco, spiked with lime, chiles, cilantro, and garlic.

An ancho chile is a dried poblano, perfect for adding a little heat to this bread crumb crust. If you don’t have a spice grinder, a clean coffee grinder will work just as well. (Grind the chile first and then make the bread crumbs in the grinder to clean it out.) Traditional mint jelly works fine as an accompaniment, but I like to surprise my guests with jalapeño jelly, which you can find in Latin markets and well-stocked supermarkets.