Baking

Buttermilk is used all the time in Southern baking to create a soft, fluffy texture and add a little tang, but it’s not often placed front and center. That’s a shame, because this creamy beverage, which tastes sort of like a cross between cow’s milk and plain, unsweetened yogurt, has a lovely tart quality that deserves to be tasted on its own. This delicate-crumbed cake is just sweet enough to balance the buttermilk’s zippiness without overwhelming it.

True pound cake doesn’t include leavening, meaning that it gets all its lift from eggs and the air that is incorporated into the batter when creaming the butter and sugar. For best results, bring the ingredients to room temperature before you begin. Granny’s old-fashioned pound cake is true to its name, calling for a pound each of butter, eggs, flour, and sugar. Proof that “plain” can be a beautiful thing.

These splendidly soft dinner rolls, which my aunt June used to make for special occasions, are the Southern equivalent of brioche, minus the egg. I’ve added fresh sage for an aromatic boost.

When my friend Kate joins us for Thanksgiving, she brings these yummy refrigerator rolls. The best thing about them is that you can throw together the dough up to a week ahead of time, store it in the fridge, and bake the rolls whenever you want, which helps make for stress-free holiday planning. When I make them, I like to add sweet potato for the beautiful color and flavor it imparts. And, since I’ve always been a fan of the combination of sweet potatoes and pork, I often use this version of the rolls to make pulled pork sandwiches, tucking Slow-Roasted Pulled Pork Butt (page 177) and Quick Cucumber Pickles (page 287) inside. Note that you’ll need to let the dough rise for two hours between mixing and baking.

Some Southerners will happily argue till they are blue in the face defending the honor of unsweetened cornbread, a preference that tends to divide the South from the North. But I find that a touch of sugar adds a layer of complexity that is well worth breaking the rules. More important to me is the baking vessel: specifically, a cast-iron skillet, preferably one that is slicked with bacon grease.

With the airiness of dinner rolls and the flaky, buttery layers of traditional biscuits, angel biscuits—which get their extra lift from a little yeast—truly deserve their celestial name. I add chopped watercress for its mild peppery flavor and a pop of color.

Growing up, my sister, Judy, and I coveted one simple dish above all others for breakfast: hot biscuits topped with lightly mashed strawberries and lots of sweet butter. I use a dead-simple recipe for cream biscuits adapted here from the Times-Picayune of New Orleans.

As anyone who has actually made biscuits from scratch will tell you, they are fast and oh-so-easy—no culinary wizardry required. Of course, you needn’t go out of your way to divulge that fact when serving these rich, flaky biscuits to a chorus of oohs and ahhs. Sometimes, certain things are better left unsaid. Serve warm with lots of sweet butter, honey, molasses, or jam.

Most every Southerner has a favorite recipe for cheese biscuits, cheese crackers, or cheese straws, those staples of holiday gifting and year-round entertaining. With the addition of rosemary and chile peppers, I give this version of these buttery crackers unexpected heat and flavor that makes them extra habit-forming. Serve topped with fresh goat cheese and pepper jelly along with a round or two of Sazeracs (page 28) or Wendy’s Bloody Marys (page 28). Shake it up with a SALTY DOG (see page 27)

This recipe came from Mark Zink, who holds the distinction of being the only male pastry chef we ever had at Bayona. This tart is plenty nutty (no offense, Mark!) and richly flavored, thanks to an abundance of almonds. Just after baking, the tart gets a dousing of scotch while it’s still warm—an unusual, aromatic, and delicious twist.

I remember when I came up with the idea for this dessert and surprised myself by how good it was! Of course, it’s nice to have a pastry chef on hand who can translate my daydreams into reality. But this one is easy enough for anyone. Try using frozen puff pastry sheets if you don’t want to mess with the phyllo dough.

When we first conjured up the notion of this dessert, we weren’t sure if people would go for the chocolate and basil combination in the mousse. But apparently everyone else dug the combination—the basil’s minty quality freshens up the chocolate taste—as much as we did: we couldn’t make these fast enough. When the scorching Crescent City summer rolled around, the kitchen got so hot and humid that the meringues wouldn’t bake properly (they need dry heat to crisp up), so we had to take them off the menu. We still like to make them from time to time when the temperature finally decides to drop.

I learned this recipe when I spent the summer in the kitchen of the Hotel Sofitel in Paris, some twenty-five years ago. Roland Durand, the chef, graciously accepted me as a stagiare, or apprentice, and I was able to work in all sections of the kitchen, including the butcher shop and bake shop. I love this cake for its texture, which is moist and rich-looking but very light, and for its versatility. It goes with so many different things, but it’s also delicious all by itself. I like to dress it up with a Pistachio Crème Anglaise and some raspberries or tart cherries.

Moist, spicy gingerbread is one of those simple desserts that people tend to associate fondly with childhood holidays. For me, it harks back to the Christmas seasons that I spent as a kid in Europe where gingerbread is particularly popular. Blending a mixture of baking soda and boiling water into molasses has a magical transforming effect in the oven. The light brown batter becomes very dark, rich, and deeply flavored when baked. Fragrant with warm, fresh ginger, this gingerbread is very moist, simple to make, and irresistible. Lime Cream is an unexpected—but perfect—partner. The recipe makes enough cream for one gingerbread cake. Any leftover cream is delicious slathered over toasted pound cake, buttermilk biscuits, or brioche. Don’t reserve this recipe just for holiday baking—it will make your family sublimely happy all year long.

Herbsaint, the anise-flavored liqueur that we named the restaurant after, was made in New Orleans for many years. It served as an absinthe substitute, offering a similar licorice taste without the hallucinations. While researching old recipes using absinthe or Pernod, I noticed the liqueurs would frequently be combined with brandy, and this appealed to me, since it tempers the strong anise flavor. Just like a sip of Sazerac, anise is not for everyone. But it’s a sophisticated alternative to the classic vanilla version. If you don’t like anise, simply substitute another tablespoon of brandy or bourbon.

This is sinfully rich and creamy, just the way a cream pie should be. It is best made several hours in advance, so that the coconut flavor has a chance to bloom in the filling. The crust is a classic pâte brisée, the rich, flaky French pastry used for both sweet and savory tarts (try it with your favorite quiche recipe). Don’t expect leftovers!

This is a scrumptious home-style Greek dessert that you won’t find in many restaurants. Galaktaboureko, which might be easier to prepare than pronounce, is made by baking semolina custard in a crispy phyllo package and then drizzling it with sweet syrup. The syrup is traditionally made with sugar and water, but I couldn’t resist the urge to infuse it with a little lemon and cinnamon.

I never thought I liked lemon desserts. Then one summer, while visiting friends in the little French village of Hyères, I experienced the most sublime marriage of lemon and butter, in the form of a humble lemon tart. It came from a pastry shop called Le Pâtisserie des Artisans, and I was too shy to ask them for the recipe. So I vowed to myself that I would research every lemon tart recipe I could get my hands on until I found one that came close. Finally, I found this version in an old cookbook called (roughly translated) Secrets of the Best Restaurants of France. It is different from any other I’ve tried, and captures the sunny flavors I can still taste in my memory. I’ve since returned to Hyères and tried to find that pastry shop (I remember it was near the outdoor market), but I think it closed. Too bad—I would have liked to tell them about my epiphany.

Next to ice cream (which I consider its own food group), pies are my favorite dessert. This one is an adult version of banana cream pie, with real scotch in the butterscotch (use a blended scotch whiskey, not a single malt). The amount of gelatin is just enough to set the filling, without making it rubbery. For the best texture, be sure to let the pie chill at least 3 hours before serving.

If this recipe looks too daunting at first blush, you might consider making it in stages. The syrup for the praline mousse can be made two days in advance, and the cake can be made the day before the dessert is assembled. Or tackle just the cake the first time, and serve it with some strawberry jam and a little whipped cream on the side. Then imagine how good (and beautiful) the cake will be with the mousse on the inside. I prefer to assemble the roulade in the morning and give it all day to get moist and flavorful in the refrigerator. Some sliced ripe strawberries or peaches send it over the top.