No-Cook

My nephew Bret is allergic to eggs, which always presents a challenge when it comes to dessert. The bigger challenge is that Bret loves banana pudding. When a seven-year-old boy who is very cute asks why everyone else is having banana pudding while he is not, Aunt Trisha has to think quickly, and because my regular recipe calls for four eggs, I have to get really creative. This banana pudding recipe came about on the spot, and Bret isn’t the only one who loves it!

This recipe is basically the same as the White Cream Decorator Frosting (page 168) except that, because you’re not worried about the icing staying white, you can use milk and regular vanilla extract.

What’s great about this salad is that it only involves opening a few cans and layering the veggies with shredded cheese. It’s simple, healthy, and looks pretty in a glass bowl to boot!

This unusual take on chicken salad is a meal in itself, with the rice, fruit, and almonds as well as cooked chicken. Just add bread or crackers.

I am a big fan of Greek salads, but at restaurants I seem to find myself always picking the vegetables and cheese out of the lettuce. One day I thought, why make it with lettuce at all? This recipe is just veggies and feta. I love it!

I’m the hick who always asks the uptown restaurant waiter if they have Thousand Island dressing. They usually give me that look (you know the one), then politely inform me it is not on the menu. I know there are lots of wonderful dressings out there, and I’ve sampled most of them, but I always come back to this one. I usually whip it up and pour it over a big iceberg lettuce wedge.

There are as many varieties of coleslaw as there are shades of pink, especially in the South! A lot of coleslaw recipes have sugar as an ingredient, but this one gets that bit of sweetness from sweet salad pickles, which don’t mask the fresh flavors of the cabbage and carrots. We serve this every Fourth of July with Barbecued Pork Ribs (page 84) and Easy Baked Beans (page 133).

Serve this punch with Cheese Straws (page 20). It’s a Yearwood family tradition—perfect to serve at Christmas parties, because it’s a beautiful bright green and makes a pretty punch bowl.

A pimiento cheese sandwich made on very fresh white bread is a true southern staple. Nothing goes better with Gwen’s Fried Chicken (page 93). Mama slices the crusts off the sandwiches and cuts them in half for family reunions—very southern belle!

This is my sister’s go-to appetizer for church socials, Super Bowl Sundays, and Christmas munchies. Several years ago, she put too much of the ranch dressing mix into the recipe, and it was hard to serve. My dad renamed it the “cheese wad.” We think Ranch Dressing Cheese Ball sounds more appetizing, but at our house, it will forever be known as Cheese Wad!

It is hard to imagine how the flavor of fresh-picked Jewel strawberries could possibly be improved. But with traditional balsamic vinegar, the gorgeous, sweet-tart, syrupy vinegar made from local grapes in Modena, Italy, it is ridiculously easy to make the strawberry taste burst out in an incredible way. If you can, use Jewel strawberries.

We can’t stress enough the importance of cleanliness when doing a recipe of this sort. That means a good washing of the jar and other equipment and yourself.

At Joe Beef, we mix up the tartares on the menu, sometimes offering the classic French recipe and other times the zesty Italian. This is the one we prepare at home the most. A nice alternative to carpaccio, it’s a great summer tartare.

On the first year of the garden, we planted six tomato plants, one smallish row of lettuce that bolted overnight, and, just for fun, a dozen wormwood plants (Artemisia absithium). Of course, by then the absinthe craze had faded and the silver-slotted spoons were long gone. It didn’t take much for us to soak way too much of those plants (in our houses, of course) in a jug of alcool (grain alcohol), then correct the awful taste of wormwood with a full bottle of pastis. Man, it was strong, and it worked, too. A few years ago, we gave Martin Picard at Au Pied de Cochon a pickle jar full of absinthe; when we later visited the restaurant, about a thousand dollars in cash was sitting in the liquid and people were drinking it right out of the jar. Disgusting. Picard would add more booze when the level dropped. So you have this huge jar of plants and money just sitting there with the top on. Every season we try to concoct a better mix—at home, of course. You’ll need a gram scale for this recipe.

When we opened Joe Beef, we didn’t have a patio. We had a patch of wasteland where only burdock grew. Not many people know what burdock is, though they may have seen or eaten the roots in vegan or Japanese restaurants. Its Latin name is Arctium lappa and it is a biennial plant, which means that the first year it makes a long taproot and hairy rhubarblike leaves. It survives the winter because of its reserve of food, and then the second year, it bears flowers, then fruits. These itchy little clingers stick to your pants. It’s a treasure chest of medicinal virtue for lungs, hair, and bowels. We didn’t know what to do with it. But the four leathery-skinned Italian men who came to lay our concrete slab knew what to do with it. In fact, it took them four hours to lay the slab, half of which was spent carefully pulling and collecting the burdock roots. They said they would wash it when they got home, then steep it in red wine and consume it as a tonic. So now every year, we send the newbies to dig for burdock in the fertile grounds of the Liverpool House backyard and make a few bottles of that tonic.

This is more of an appetizer than a cocktail. What’s the reason behind the size? Hunger, gluttony, and insecurity are but a few. Serve in a large glass or a Mason jar.

This drink started as a vinaigrette for razor clams, and it still is. But with scotch, really cold, it’s awesome. If you have a juicer, it’s the best. If you don’t, a blender and a sieve will do. Chervil is one of those herbs that you can’t cook, and if you buzz it in syrup, for example, you will end up with something more akin to soup Florentine than a cocktail component. Serve in a lowball glass.

This chilled soup always makes me imagine what summer in Eden must have been like: silky, verdant, bright, and refreshing. My only other need would be a glass of cava or vinho verde to go with it. The quality of your avocados is key to this recipe. Try to find the Haas or Bacon varieties from a domestic grower—the Fuerte ones from Chile (which are common in supermarkets) are too watery.

This is the perfect simple ending to an elaborate meal (or any meal, really). It requires practically no prep and is infinitely modifiable. Figs out of season? Use apples, apricots, or orange segments instead. Don’t like walnuts? Use pistachios or hazelnuts. But you will get the richest, most decadent results by sticking with Greek yogurt.