Cinnamon

If you want to impress your guests with minimalism, here’s the ticket: a crust with a little sweetened cream on it. Ridiculously simple but—like a simple sugar cookie—enormously enjoyable. And be assured that this and the variation are traditional recipes. This is best with good, thick heavy cream, not ultrapasteurized. It’s worth a trip to a nearby farm or farmers’ market if that’s possible.

In the world of fresh pastry, few things are quicker than churros, the crisp, crullerlike strips of fried dough that are still popular in Spain, where they originated, but perhaps even more so in Mexico. In fact, there are few breakfast or last-minute late-night snacks that can match a batch of churros. Churros served at restaurants can be awful because they’re fried in stale oil and made in advance. But make them fresh once, for breakfast or dessert (ideally, you’ll serve them with Chocolate Español, page 665, or Mexican Hot Chocolate, page 664) and you will have a reliable addition to your repertoire.

Loukoumades are served across Greece and Cyprus, with a wide range of garnishes. I’ve suggested honey and cinnamon because they’re a simple, delicious, and authentic combination. But you could add a sprinkling of chopped pistachios or a dusting of confectioners’ sugar or even substitute the syrup used in making Baklava (page 628) for the honey.

These can be produced, if you like, with lard or (more likely) butter, but this is an ancient recipe from southern Spain and probably was originally made with olive oil. Terrific with sherry or coffee.

These sweet fritters are a cross between doughnuts and potato pancakes. That may sound strange, but, like doughnuts or churros, they make a great break fast or snack food. Buñuelos are most often made from a combination of three roots. One is yucca (also known as cassava and, confusingly enough, tapioca and manioc); it has a tough brown skin, bright white flesh, and a tough core that should be cut out before cooking. The second is malanga (also called taro), which resembles a hairy yam but has a lovely, creamy interior, sometimes streaked with purple. Finally, there’s boniato, also known as batata or Cuban sweet potato. It’s in the same family as sweet potatoes and yams (and either can be substituted here). The reddish skin encases white flesh, which is dry and has a subtle sweetness. All three of these can be found at major good supermarkets and Latin groceries, right next to one another.

This bread kicks traditional monkey bread’s butt! It’s the best.

This recipe is a Foster family standard, a permanent fixture at holidays and other large family gatherings. Along with most other Southerners, I’ve been a huge fan of sweet potatoes for as long as I can remember, but in my case I think this sticky-sweet preparation may be the root of my obsession. When I make it today, I add fresh orange juice and zest to brighten the flavors and cut the sweetness just a hair, yielding what I think of as a grown-up version of this childhood favorite.

These seem to cry, “Brunch! Brunch!” Take the time to make someone special a Sunday morning treat with a big cup of café au lait, and you won’t regret it. These fritters, a take on beignets, the French Quarter’s most famous doughnut, are a snap to make.

When ground meat or meat paste is enhanced by other seasonings and cooked in an unusual manner, rather than just boiled, it is elevated to the realm of cha, a term used for fancier charcuterie. So if the name of a dish includes the word cha, expect to be seduced. Here, the meat paste receives a dose of cinnamon, which adds a deep spicy-sweet flavor without being cloying (much as it does to many savory Middle Eastern dishes). To accentuate the perfume and color that cinnamon lends to the paste, the mixture is traditionally spread onto a large section of bamboo and cooked on a spit over a wood fire. As the bamboo spins, a chewy skin forms and a heady aroma wafts through the air. When cut from the bamboo, the ready-to-eat sausage is curved like pieces of cinnamon bark. In the States, my mom tried substituting a large metal juice can for the bamboo and an electric rotisserie for the spit. If things weren’t just right, the paste slipped off the can and was ruined. The method here, which uses an inverted baking sheet, is much easier, although it doesn’t yield the characteristic curved shape. The taste, however, is splendid, especially when the sausage is made with strong, sweet Vietnamese cassia cinnamon.

We use this stock for Pumpkin Soup (page 29) but you can use it for any vegetable-based soup of your liking. The addition of canela in the stock works well with the pumpkin and adds a slightly warm, spicy note to the base.

Nutty cracked wheat (okay, it’s technically bulgur) adds a welcome touch of texture to these waffles. Made with whole wheat flour, the waffles are a bit healthier and heartier than standard ones without being the least bit leaden. Spicy cinnamon and complex allspice lend their flavors to the creamy butter. A sweet blueberry syrup drizzled—or ladled—over the waffles makes the whole dish special. I wouldn’t recommend making the syrup with frozen berries as they are too wet to burst as the fresh berries do. If you have extra berries left over, sprinkle them on top before serving.