Potato

Drumsticks are always our favorite, but Mama always likes the thighs, so we make it so that everyone can get what they want. Rosemary really complements the new red potatoes and gives them a hearty garden flavor, and using dark meat keeps the dish juicy. We love this with a light side salad like our crunchy iceberg lettuce salad with blue cheese.

As kids growing up, we always loved Mama’s tasty “hobo” dinners. Super easy to make—she would just throw everything together in an aluminum foil packet—and easy on the wallet, these complete meals in a pouch were on the table each and every week. To dress up these humble-as-a-hobo meals for company, try adding baby carrots, fennel, and other root vegetables, along with some nice ground sirloin. The aluminum foil seals in all the flavor of the ingredients and makes the sacks—fancy or simple—even more delicious than they ought to be. And though they are a whole meal in themselves, we love to serve them with our Moist-and-Easy Corn Bread (page 45).

When my brothers and I were cooking and working at my father’s barbecue restaurant, we had barbecue baked potatoes on the menu and they were popular as hell. I ate them for lunch all the time, and to this day I make them whenever I have leftover pulled pork.

When I host cooking school weekends at my place, I often do a Lowcountry Boil on Friday nights for my usual “meet and greet” session, where the folks attending can get to know one another—and me—a little bit. This is a specialty of the Lowcountry areas like Charleston and Savannah, where the people live near the water and have access to plenty of fresh shrimp. But of course you don’t need to live near the water to enjoy it. The traditional way to serve this is to basically dump it—spread it, if you will—across a large picnic table that has been covered with newspaper. You may want to fancy up the serving situation, but it’s fine to keep it casual, too. You can just tell your guests that’s how they do it down South.

When I make this stew, an extremely old-fashioned and indigenous example of the “poor people” food that the South was built on, I feel like I’m cooking a piece of my own history. The origins of this piquant, thin stew, which is loaded with meat and vegetables, are hotly disputed between Brunswick, Georgia, and Brunswick County, Virginia (I’m a Georgia product myself, so you know which side I’m on). I always make this for a crowd. A big crowd. Like those at my cooking school, which typically draws more than fifty students. I have my own professional-size meat grinder, and what I often do is grind the onions and potatoes together with the pork and brisket. You don’t need to do that at home; you can just mix them together. And feel free to cut this recipe in half (or quarters, whatever you need), but I suggest you make it for your next snow day, and bake up some cornbread to go with it—feed the whole block and you’ll have friends for life, trust me.

On the second season of Pitmasters, I wasn’t a competitor; I was a judge. What can I say—that’s what happens when no one can beat you. Anyway, the judging panel consisted of football star Warren Sapp, chef Art Smith, and yours truly. On one episode, we held a competition for the best homemade potato salad. I pride myself on my potato salad. I said to the contestants, “You got to have mayonnaise to have a good potato salad.” I don’t care what else you put in it—it’s got to be a little bit creamy.

One of my favorite suppers is a good sausage with warm potato salad. I love the way the sausage juices mingle with the tender new potatoes bathed in a mustardy vinaigrette—a very French taste that makes me nostalgic.

Either of these flavorful, earthy root vegetables blends with potatoes to make a beautiful accompaniment to so many saucy dishes. And what could be simpler? You cook the two together and mash them with a little butter and cream, and they’re ready.

Once, when I was in Cambridge working all day nonstop with Julia Child, as we often did, it was almost 11 p.m. when she finally swept away the manuscript and announced we’d make dinner. She then turned to me and said: “Judith, you make a nice little potato dish while I fix the meat.” Slightly unnerved, I managed to rise to the occasion and put together what I would call a fast stovetop version of the classic potatoes Anna. As I mashed some garlic and salt together and smeared this between the layers of sliced potatoes, Julia was looking on a bit skeptically, and although I used lots of butter, of which she always approved, it wasn’t clarified butter. But when we sat down and she took her first bite, she pronounced the potatoes delicious, and her husband, Paul, toasted me. I was in cook’s heaven. I probably made my potato dish that night in a standard round 5- or 6-inch skillet for the three of us, but in recent years I’ve made it regularly for myself in a 4 1/2-inch-square cast-iron frying pan, which once belonged to my father. After he retired, he liked cooking for himself, and I remember his acquiring this little pan with pride so that he could make himself one perfect fried egg. It’s unlikely that you’ll have such a pan, particularly one imbued with fond memories, but any very small skillet will do.

The difference between a frittata and an omelet, as I see it, is that the frittata cooks very slowly and will be somewhat more firm, so that it can suspend a number of different garnishes nicely arrayed in a pattern, with their flavors complementing one another. I always slip my frittata under the broiler at the end, so that the cheese scattered on top browns. This is another dish that welcomes improvisation.

Here’s a soup to warm your heart even on the bleakest day of winter. Use it as a guideline, and make your own innovations according to what you have on hand. The beans are very nourishing, the meat accent lends heartiness, and the greens are healthy, giving balance and color. It’s interesting how cooks of the past just knew these things instinctively.

This is a rich, comforting soup to make if you have treated yourself to a whole steamed lobster (see page 254). You should have about 2 cups of lobster broth left in your pot after steaming, so be sure to save it. Also, check and scrape out any bits of lobster flesh still lodged in the shells, and use them as a garnish.

This is really another take on the preceding vegetable soup, but it differs enough in detail to warrant a full-dress recipe. It is without question one of my favorite soups, and I usually plant a couple of rows of leeks in my garden so I can indulge myself at a moment’s notice. This is one soup in which I prefer to use water rather than stock, so that nothing interferes with the sweet, pronounced flavor of the leeks.

Here’s a master recipe for a vegetable soup that you can make just for yourself when you have the urge, on a cold day, or when garden greens are in abundance in the summer.

Those little bits of fish that you didn’t finish, or that you purposely put aside for another meal, take on new life in these scrumptious fish cakes. My rule of thumb is to use equal parts cooked fish and potatoes. If the fish you are using has been fried, scrape off the crusty exterior, because you want the cakes to be smooth inside.

Bluefish and mackerel are both rather fatty fish, and they take well to broiling, particularly when the fillet sits on a bed of flavorful vegetables and they exchange flavors. I also like this preparation because it requires only one pan. If it’s a handsome fireproof baking dish, it can come right to the table. Otherwise, scoop everything up with a spatula and serve on a warm plate.

This is a nice dish for summer, when zucchini is abundant and the fingerlings are delicate

Lamb shanks lend themselves to slow cooking, so I like to make this hearty dish-in-one on a weekend and then have it later in the week in a second incarnation. Shanks are often found two to a package in the supermarket, so it’s less hassle to buy the whole package and enjoy them twice. I’ve adapted this recipe from Claudia Roden, who taught me always to have a jar of my own preserved lemons in the fridge to give that final spark to so many Middle Eastern and North African dishes, and I’ve followed her advice.

I love lamb chops, and I can’t resist when I find a pair of loin chops at least 1 inch thick sitting side by side in a shrink-wrapped package at the meat counter. Expensive? Yes, and I don’t really need two of them. But I give in and set aside the uneaten portion of the second one to tuck into a small casserole of French lentils. It makes an appealing second dinner.

From cooking a corned beef hash lunch with Julia Child, I learned a few tips about what makes a really delicious hash, whether it be made with cooked lamb, beef, poultry, or, in this case, pork. I discovered the importance of adding some stock and cooking the hash slowly at first, to form a glaze, and of always cutting the meat in small pieces, never grinding. You use approximately the same amount of meat as potatoes, and it’s essential to include some aromatic vegetables to give off their sweetness and help form the glaze that makes the crust. I am using a cooked beet here, because New Englanders always include it with pork—hence the name “red flannel”—but use other handy vegetables, such as mushrooms, red peppers, carrot, or fennel, that are good foils for whatever meat you have left over. I cook it all in my sturdy 8-inch cast-iron pan, which I think is better than nonstick for a hash.