5 Ingredients or Fewer

Some people will tell you that it’s okay to make carne cruda, known as “steak tartare” in fancy French circles, in a food processor. Sorry, no go. You don’t chop it, pulse it, or otherwise mangle it. You freeze it, slice it, crosscut it, and dice it. Period. Yes, chopping the meat by hand requires patience, but it creates the perfect texture. Freezing the meat beforehand makes this job easier. This is one of those recipes where you must use the very best ingredients you can find—the best olive oil, the best imported anchovies—to take this crudo over the top. Buy the best New York strip or tenderloin you can afford, and tell your butcher how you’re serving the meat to ensure you get the very best. For a light meal, serve with plenty of crusty bread and a small salad.

Two things you should know about me and carpaccio: First, I don’t like carpaccio you can see through; I cut mine a little thicker, which gives it better texture and body. Second, I like my carpaccio loaded, the way some people think of nachos or pizza. Here I use some bococcini de pecorino that we keep in the restaurants and some tender baby arugula, but you could use shaved porcini mushrooms, shaved raw artichokes, or sautéed chanterelles—whatever you like. Just load it up.

My Aunt June used to make this boiled vanilla custard almost constantly from Thanksgiving to Christmas so as to keep a steady supply on hand. Ever the ready hostess, June kept the custard stored not in the refrigerator, as you might expect, but in a Tupperware container in the trunk of her car. This ensured that she was never without party supplies, whether she was entertaining at home or calling on friends. We were always glad to see Aunt June coming at that time of year, not least because we knew her famous custard was sure to follow.

I grew up eating most salads with Italian dressing or plain old oil and vinegar, which was the closest I came to vinaigrette. But now I can’t live without vinaigrettes; they’re so easy and flavorful. Here is one of my favorites, which I often make with the dregs from a jar of mustard that would otherwise have been thrown away.

This is my standard winter vegetable side, which is so simple, comforting, and savory-sweet that I make it at least once a week during the cold months.

This recipe makes much more than you’ll need for one meal, but you won’t be sorry you have extra—it spruces up everything from toasted bread and steamed vegetables to grilled fish or chicken.

The inspiration for this dish came from Paula Wolfert’s excellent version of “chicken under a brick,” and from my brand-new, heavy-bottomed cast-iron skillet. Chicken under a brick—what Wolfert calls Italian fried chicken—is a traditional Tuscan preparation in which chicken is weighted with a clay slab over dry heat. The weight of the slab drives the juices and rendered fat back into the chicken as it cooks, resulting in succulent meat with crackly, golden-brown skin. Well, I soon put two and two together, and chicken under a skillet was born. Just think of it as Southern fried chicken’s long-lost Italian cousin. Note that you’ll want to let the meat marinate for several hours prior to cooking to get the big flavors that make this simple dish shine.

Granny Foster made the best fried chicken in the world—salty and golden brown with a crackly crust that gave way to meat as moist and tender as could be. The secret is the overnight brine of water, salt, and spices that drives extra moisture and flavor into the meat, where they are locked in during the cooking process.

Fried green tomatoes are one of those Southern classics that inspire fanatical devotion. For good reason: green tomatoes have a lovely tart flavor that mellows and warms in the heat of the frying pan, and, because they are so firm, they keep their shape and texture even after they’re cooked. They are most often eaten on their own, as a side dish, so it wasn’t until I visited a small grocery store in Greenwood, Mississippi, that I tried a fried green tomato BLT for the first time. It immediately struck me as such an obvious combination that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already thought of it myself.

Southerners take sausage and egg biscuits for granted. They are just about everywhere in the South—we make them at Foster’s, and you can even buy them at country convenience stores, where you might find a stack wrapped in cellophane in a basket by the register. If you haven’t already had sausage and egg biscuits yourself, I hope this recipe will make you a convert. For extra flavor, cook the eggs the way my dad did, by frying them directly in the sausage grease left in the skillet rather than using butter. Feel free to scramble rather than fry the eggs if you prefer.

Gravlax is surprisingly easy to make at home, and you can vary the herbs or add spices to suit your taste. Once you become comfortable with the process, you’ll want to have this around for easy lunches and snacks.

A few years ago Chip and I took a trip to Peru. We started in Lima and then traveled on to Cuzco and Machu Picchu, one of the most beautiful places on earth. While in Lima, we stopped at an outdoor bar in the Barranco neighborhood, an artists’ and musicians’ enclave rather like a Peruvian French Quarter. We met a salty old bartender who made us these delicious frothy drinks that reminded me somewhat of a gin fizz, but after two, our heads were spinning. Pisco is a spirit made from grapes, and it is quite strong, so beware!